Star Claws: Tales of the Flame: Project USS
by FeatherlynneXWarrior
Summary: It's been over 15 years since Project: USS was shut down, and now Deathhorn, a dangerous mad genius, has plans to reopen it. Now, HAC scientists work frantically to create the Ultimate Super Soldier using the DNA of werehogs and the most lethal beasts in the animal kingdom. But what terrible fates await the successful experiments? And what's in it for Deathhorn?
1. Prologue

Prologue

Time: 1400

Place: Area 51

The doors to the meeting room opened. A soldier in his army uniform ran in, panting. His eyes were traced with small glints of fear.

He stood at attention. "Sir, Operation Sword Breaker has failed. The squad has disappeared."

"What?!" The general stood up in a fury and pounded his iron fist on the metal table.

"See? I told you this would happen. Or the more reason we should go ahead with my plan," said a shadowy figure opposite from the angry general.

"Shut up! The only reason you're here is because-"

"Because you need me. Your race is too primitive to win against real opponents on your own. So, you brought me in to do all the thinking for you,"

"I said SHUT UP! If it weren't for us you'd be in prison,"

"True. But that doesn't mean you don't still need me," The figure sat up and into the light. It was a humanoid lizard with tribal tattoos running from his left eye to the tip of his long tail, a huge scar ran down his milky, right eye and to the edge of his jaw, and two enormous scarred and red-inked tribal tattooed horns rose up from his massive head.

The general glared at him. He was right. They did need him. But the general refused to admit it to someone like _him._

"What exactly _is_ your plan, Deathhorn?" asked another man from the other end of the long table.

"It's simple," said Deathhorn and stood up. "We reopen Project USS,"

Murmurs of surprise cascaded throughout the meeting room.

"That's insanity, Deathhorn! Especially after what happened last time!" exclaimed a cornel from across the room. A huge scar ran diagonally down his face.

"Ah, but you used _humans_ last time, and that was your biggest mistake. Humans are _weak _and easily rebell_. _If my plan is to be successful, we must not make the same mistake twice,"

"What are you suggesting?"

A sinister smile spread across the evil lizard's scaly face. He had a dark and dangerous look in eyes.

"We use humanoids this time. And not just any humanoids; we use the most powerful among them. Elite humanoids with raw power, humanoids with quick and clever brains, humanoids with unmatched skill,"

"So, your plan is basically reopening your experiments,"

"Not necessarily. But in way, I suppose you could look at it that way, yes,"

"Deathhorn, that's the whole reason you were arrested. Your experiments went too far. If you think-"

"Now, hold on, I know what you're thinking. But this time, it could work, because I know the first link to creating the Ultimate Super Soldier,"

"And what would that be?" asked the general, in almost a mocking tone.

"The werehog,"

"A werehog?" asked the cornel across the room with the huge scar.

"Yes, a werehog. The werehog is the apex predator. Its keen sense of smell can track a mouse over ten miles away. It can see and navigate in the dark of night; it can hear a rat's heart beating a hundred meters away. It can run up to fifty miles an hour; lift up to seven hundred pounds. It is quick and clever; a single werehog can outsmart and kill an entire squad of your men without breaking a sweat or lifting a claw. They can heal and recover from a mortal wound in a matter of _days_. Not to mention their transformation, and that little extra power boost they get from the moon."

Deathhorn smiled. "Of course, it depends on what _kind_ of werehog we use,"

"What do you mean what 'kind' of werehog we use?"

Deathhorn chuckled. "There are many kinds of werehogs, Commander. Each Pack has its own strengths and characteristics that make it stronger or weaker than other Packs,"

Deathhorn typed in a file name on the touch screen in front of him. The Pack seal appeared on one of the large screened TVs is the wall. Deathhorn got up and stood beside it and everyone in the room turned to look at what Deathhorn had pulled up.

"One example of a type of werehog is a Garnet werehog,"

A picture of a mid-sized red werehog appeared on the screen.

"Garnet werehogs can navigate in rocky terrains and can endure and survive in harsh climates. They are swift and nimble, and can jump at heights of up to ten feet,"

A picture of a cobalt blue female werehog materialized on the screen.

"The Sapphire werehog, their Pack is made up almost entirely females. Sapphires are quick, strong, and tough. They are light on their feet and very clever. These females are built for stealth. They are strong swimmers and agile hunters,"

A picture of a huge dusty blue male werehog appeared on the screen.

"The Lapis Lazuli werehog is quick and ferocious. Their Pack is like a modern day Sparta. They are born and trained for battle. These werehogs can grow up to eight feet in height, and can lift up to nine hundred pounds. A Lapis will not stop fighting until it has either won the battle or until it is killed,"

Pictures of other werehogs flashed on the screen.

"And these are just a few of the many different types of werehogs. The Zircon werehog, Aquamarine, Gold, Cobalt, Sardonyx, Ruby, Peridot, Moonstone, Citrine, Tourmaline, Topaz, Bloodstone, Black Diamond, Emerald, Opal, Turquoise, Alexandrite, Pearl, Amethyst, and Diamond. And these are just the main types of werehogs; there are tens, perhaps hundreds of Packs with thousands of different types werehogs with their own special strengths and abilities.

"But the is one flaw in the Wereians' design,"

Deathhorn pulled up a diagram of a muscular gray werehog on the screen.

"Silver, when it is combined with that special chemical produced in a Wereian's tail what the Wereians call 'moon blood', creates a chemical reaction to it that makes silver like acid on a Wereian's skin, making them very vulnerable to it,"

Whispers and murmurs weaved through the air, thinking over and considering everything Deathhorn had just shown them.

"It will never work, Deathhorn," criticized the cornel, leaning in his chair and his arms crossed.

Deathhorn smiled and shook his head. "Oh, Cornel. You of _all_ people should know the power a werehog,"

The cornel frowned and touched the scar that ran down his unshaven face. He shook his head and glared at Deathhorn. "It still won't work. Werehogs hunt in packs,"

"Then we simply create a pack,"

Everyone in the room stared at him. Unable to hide their surprise. Deathhorn smiled darkly.

_Stupid humans. They have no idea what they're up against. _Thought Deathhorn before he explained further details of his plan for Project: USS.


	2. Chapter 1: Taros

::ENTER PASSWORD::

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::ACCESS DENIED::  
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::H.A.C. LABS::  
::PROJECT: USS::  
::EXPERIMENT-FILE: 148::  
::A.K.A. TAROS::

Taros

Time: 2000

Place: HAC Labs

Project: E-148

It had been nearly a year and a half since Project: USS was reopened. Soon after the Project was reopened, HAC was built, a top secret lab where the experiments for Project: USS were to be conducted. HAC stands for Humanoid Alloy Center, where scientists fuse the Deoxyribonucleic Acid, or DNA, of different types of werehogs with the DNA of the most powerful and skilled animals in the Animal Kingdom.

Dr. Lynx stepped through the mechanical titanium doors.

Inside the lab, a pair of scientists hovered above a control board. Dr. Lynx looked up at the capsule which contained yet another super soldier experiment.

The screen on the control panel beeped, and the scientist on the left, a middle aged woman with dark brown hair, scribbled something on her clipboard.

"Well, how's our little experiment going?"

The woman and the scientist next to her, a man in his late thirties with blond hair, jerked their heads towards Dr. Lynx, clearly startled.

"Dr. Lynx! W-we didn't hear you come in," stammered the woman.

Dr. Lynx chuckled. "I'm just dropping by to check on your progress," Dr. Lynx steeped up to the control panel and peered at the screen. Nothing.

Dr. Lynx sighed. "Nothing new I assume?"

The woman sighed. "No, I'm afraid not,"

Dr. Lynx sighed heavily. It was the same every time.

"Which one is this?"

"Number E-148," she replied.

She stepped up to the control panel and typed in a file name. "We're trying out a new type of werehog this time," a picture of a male Black Diamond werehog and a female Opal appeared on the screen.

"Opal and Black Diamond, hm? That's an interesting combination," commented Dr. Lynx.

"The Black Diamond werehog is for the strength battle instinct and the Opal werehog its keen senses and its unique instinct for survival,"

"Unique? I thought all werehogs had an instinct for survival,"

"They do. But an Opal's survival instinct is very unique. You see, it's not unlike an animal's instinct for survival, even if it faced with impossible odds it will do whatever it takes to survive. Like a zombie's urge to feed on human flesh, or a bird's instinct to fly south for the winter. In fact, back in the early days of the Packs, Opal Wereians were known to eat each other in times when food was scarce,"

"Ugh!" gagged Dr. Lynx, repulsed by the very thought of cannibalism.

"Of course, now days, if something like that happens the werehog is sentenced to be torn apart,"

Dr. Lynx gave her a disgusted look. "Wereians are such savage creatures," he stared up at the capsule. "This is a waste of time,"

The blond-haired man stared at Dr. Lynx as if he had just told a joke (which was very rare).

"But, Dr. Lynx, why would you think this is a waste of time?" the man asked in a naïve sounding voice.

"Because the Project was a complete failure last time! What makes this time any different? And besides, if a human was dangerous, imagine how much more dangerous a werehog could be! A Black Diamond werehog is at least 70x stronger than a human, fusing its DNA with another powerful animal's DNA is only going to make it that much more dangerous! What if it turns out like Project: X?"

"It won't," came a dark voice from behind.

The trio of scientists jerked their heads around to see the familiar dark silhouette of Deathhorn as he stepped into the light. His wrists and ankles weighed down by trackers and restraints, and around his long neck was a thick restraint collar.

"What do want Deathhorn? What are you doing here? Who gave you clearance?" demanded Dr. Lynx.

"It's my project, Dr, Lynx. I gave myself clearance,"

Dr. Lynx was furious. "It is not your project Deathhorn! You merely suggested it. Now, what do want?"

"Our little project won't turn out like Project: X, Dr. Lynx. Project: X used that violence inducing chemical; I believe it was called Serum X, right?"

A flash of fear skidded across Dr. Lynx's amber eyes. He shook his head angrily. "How do you know about that, Deathhorn?" seethed Dr. Lynx.

Deathhorn grinned sinisterly at the doctor. Dr. Lynx could have sworn he saw a glint of insanity spark in his one clear blue eye. "I have my ways. But there is another reason our little experiments won't turn out like Project: X because the Opal DNA helps to stabilize the Black Diamond DNA,"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a Black Diamond's DNA can be very unstable on its own, if it is not used correctly, which I highly doubt you would have,"

Dr. Lynx glared at Deathhorn, who brushed it off like it was nothing more than a fallen leaf in the autumn.

"Opal Wereians are generally sweet and good natured, which counter acts the Black Diamond's more. . . Aggressive nature, thereby neutralizing it down to a minor threat," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "At least until just the right moment,"

"How do you know that would work, anyway?"

"Well for one, we used a lot more Opal DNA than we did Black Diamond," Deathhorn stepped up to the control panel. "Now, let's see what progress you've made so far," he said to no one in particular.

He analyzed the information on the screen for a minute or two. "Well, so far you've made overall good progress, but how come you haven't given it any real life yet?"

They were all silent for several heartbeats; the dark-haired woman was the first to break the awkward silence.

"Well, it could become unstable, and quite frankly, we have no idea what could happen if we, um,"

"Gave it a little more juice," finished the blond-haired man.

"Yes, exactly," she said in almost a panicky voice.

Deathhorn stared at them as if they had just said something extremely stupid.

"Well, then, if you're too much of a hatchling to 'juice' it up a bit, I'll just have to do it myself,"

Deathhorn started typing on the keyboard and then pulled down a lever on his right. The capsule's humming crescendoed, louder and louder, higher and higher until it sounded like it was on the brink of exploding. Sparks fell down from the ceiling like snow in the winter. The lights on the capsule grew even brighter as the capsule's humming grew louder.

Dr. Lynx fixed Deathhorn in a death glare. "What have you done?!"

"Finished what you started," he said plainly.

Sparks began to fly from the control panel, Deathhorn backed away slowly and looked up at the capsule, realizing the damage he had just caused. The capsule's humming was deafening.

"IT'S GONNA BLOW!" screamed the blond-hair scientist.

The ground began to tremor.

"HIT THE DECK!" yelled Dr. Lynx. Everyone dropped to the floor and the machine exploded with a blinding light and cascade of sparks and shards of glass and metal.

It stopped. It was like someone had pushed the off switch on a remote and silenced the explosion. The scientists looked behind them and gazed at the obliterated capsule. Wires hung from the ceiling with dangling glowing red tips and sparks cascading off the ends.

The blond-haired man sighed. "Well, I think we can consider this one a failure,"

"Look what you've done, you over-sized abomination! You destroyed the lab and the capsule!" Dr. Lynx yelled at Deathhorn.

"I thought you said this project was a waste of time, doctor," answered Deathhorn in a sarcastic innocent voice.

"Why, I otta-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a small whimpering echoed through the air.

It was coming from the capsule.

The trio of scientists and Deathhorn slowly stood up without taking their eyes off the shattered capsule. The whimpering was the only sound in the air.

They cautiously stepped up to the edge of the shattered capsule and peered over the side. In the middle of the broken capsule lay an alabaster newborn werehog puppy with jet black wings. Its big ears were flat against its head and massive wings were folded close to its back and its eyes were sealed shut.

Deathhorn smiled. "I think we can consider this one a success," said Deathhorn and reached for the squirming puppy with one of his scaly, clawed hands.

Dr. Lynx immediately lashed out with his claws at Deathhorn's outstretched hand. Deathhorn quickly drew his hand back, cradling it and glaring at Dr. Lynx.

"I think you've caused enough trouble," warned Dr. Lynx and reached for the pup. It mewled in protest at Dr. Lynx's touch, but quieted down when the doctor cradled him in his arms.

"Well, everyone, it looks like we have our first successful GFW," announced Dr. Lynx, still staring at the sleeping white werepuppy.

"Yeah, I think we do,"

"What? The lab exploded?"

"Yes, General, but you won't believe what came out of it," answered Dr. Lynx. He shifted his arms so the board could see the sleeping alabaster werepuppy in his arms. The board gasped and stared at the tiny puppy.

"How do you know the experiment worked? That looks like an ordinary werepuppy to me," commented the Cornel.

"Maybe you better look closer, Cornel," Deathhorn seemed to come out of nowhere, as if he materialized out of thin air. He emerged from the shadows, his ankles were weighed down by shackles and his scaly body was riddled with cuts and bruises.

Deathhorn reached for the pup with an outstretched hand, the puppy began to squirm and whimper in Dr. Lynx's arms. He grabbed the helpless puppy by the scruff and held it up in the air. He pried the little creature's wings open and forced it to spread them, the inside of the wings were blood-red. The tiny puppy squealed in protest.

The cornel just stared, speechless.

"Now tell me Cornel, does a normal werehog have bat wings?" Deathhorn smirked. The cornel glared at him and stared at the pup, his face was expressionless but his brown eyes betrayed his worry and a small glint of fear.

The board was silent for several heartbeats; Deathhorn released the tiny pup's wings and handed it back to Dr. Lynx. Dr. Lynx snatched it away from Deathhorn and glared at him, then looked down at the pup. It had stopped whimpering and settled down in Dr. Lynx's arms.

_What does this pup sense? What does he know? _Thought Dr. Lynx as the tiny pup fell asleep in his arms.

"How do we know it's safe?" asked a commander from across the room.

"Well for now he's perfectly harmless. Wereians puppies are near completely helpless until they are at least a year old," the dark haired woman answered.

"But what about when it gets older?" asked the cornel without taking his eyes off the tiny puppy.

It was Deathhorn who answered. "Simple, werehog puppies aren't too much different than children or dogs. If you train them correctly they turn out just fine. And besides, this pup is 70% Opal, so it should be fairly, sweet in nature,"

The dark haired woman eyed Deathhorn. That was the most forced _sweet_ she'd ever heard.

"Fine then. What's its number?" asked the General.

"E-148,"

"Alright then. Take it to Cell Block C,"

"Cell Block?" asked the dark haired woman in an almost panicked voice.

"Yes, Cell Block. We don't know how dangerous this thing really is. I want to keep it under lock and key until we know exactly what we're dealing with,"

She stole a long glance at the pup. It was sleeping peacefully in Dr. Lynx's arms.

_It. No, it is a he, not an it. _She thought. That pup deserved better than a stingy old cell. It deserved to run through the woods and chase butterflies, or squirrels, or whatever it was werehog puppies chased. But no, it was condemned to the brutality of the government.

And a number. The general didn't ask what they should name it; he asked what its number was. Pups weren't supposed to have numbers; they were supposed to have names.

"Should we shackle it, sir?" asked a soldier from behind.

_Shackle it?!_ Thought the dark haired woman.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," said the general as he stood up. This man had to be at least six and a half feet tall. "At least not yet,"

The soldier came up from behind Dr. Lynx and took the alabaster puppy. It whimpered and whined in protest at being ripped from Dr. Lynx's warm embrace.

"As soon as it opens its eyes I want him fitted for a tracking anklet," ordered the general as he walked over to the soldier to get a better look at the puppy.

The dark haired woman cleared her throat. "If I may sir, I would like to be the one to care for the pup,"

The general turned towards her. "Do as you like, Dr. White," he turned to the blond haired man."Dr. Dibs, do me a huge favor and send a clean-up crew to the lab, will you?"

"Of course, sir," answered the blond haired man.

The general nodded to Deathhorn. "Escort him to his cell. Just because the experiment was a success, doesn't mean his actions will go unpunished. He didn't have clearance or permission to do what he did,"

Three soldiers came up to Deathhorn, one on either side of him and one from behind. His clawed hands were locked in heavy cuffs and two of the soldiers grabbed him by the arms, the third pointed a gun at his bony back.

"You'll thank me later," said Deathhorn as the soldiers led him away.

The general scoffed. He hated that over-sized lizard.

He turned to the trio of soldiers who were supposed to be escorting the experiment to his hold.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Chinese New Year? Go!" he commanded, the soldiers quickly filed out of room with the puppy in the middle soldier's arms. Dr. White followed close behind them.

The puppy whimpered and squirmed in the soldier's arms, as if it sensed the soldier was taking him somewhere he didn't want to go.

"Maybe I should hold him," suggested Dr. White with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"No, ma'am, it's for your own safety," answered the soldier in almost mechanical voice.

_My own safety? It's a newborn puppy! Just because it's a werehog with bat wings doesn't mean it's dangerous!_

They turned left down a long hallway. At the end was a steel door. One of the soldiers pulled a security card out from his belt and slid it into the slot on the security lock. The light turned green and the door slid open.

The white barren walls were lined with cells that resembled solitary confinement cells, like in Cell Block D, except these cells had electric lights and no prison bars. And they were much cleaner and they were a little bigger than the D Block cells.

This was no place for an innocent puppy.

The soldiers stopped at one of cells on the left side and unlocked it. The walls were as white and barren as the hallway. On the right was a small bed with dull baby blue sheets held up by two cables and behind it was a bantam wooden dresser with drawers and by the far wall was a sink and toilet. The ceiling was lined with long bright electric lights.

The pup was whimpering even louder now, writhed and squirmed as the soldier set him down on the demine blue sheets. The pup made small yipping noises as it wriggled around on the small bed, trying to find someone who would comfort him.

The soldiers filed out of the cell, the last one paused at door. "Ma'am,"

"Just a minute," she said and sat down next to the tiny pup. She set her hand close to his head. His little nose started to twitch, trying to find the source of the sweet smelling scent.

His little wet nose bumped into Dr. White's hand, he sniffed it curiously, and then licked it.

Dr. White smiled and gently pet him on the head. He seemed to settle down at her touch and nosed her hand.

She knew what he wanted. She carefully picked him up by the waist and lifted him into her lap. He wriggled and squirmed for a moment then settled down and quickly fell fast asleep.

_Who could ever want to hurt such an innocent child, winged werehog or not._

She gently stroked his soft downy head, then carefully lifted him up and laid him down on the bed. She got up and started to walk out the door. The puppy began to stir and whined for her to come back.

With tears in her eyes she left the room and closed the door.

"E, E! I hope you're hungry, because I have a big breakfast for you!" called Dr. White from the other side of the cell door.

It had been nearly a month since the alabaster pup's creation, he had opened his eyes and his ears stood straight up on his soft, downy head, and frequently stretched his enormous black and blood-red wings. He had been fitted with his tracking anklet and his number was tattooed on his right arm. Dr. White had protested but the scientists had paid no attention to her. He was simply the cutest thing Dr. White had ever seen, and he had the biggest, cutest eyes, they were a shining amethyst purple.

Dr. White hated that the pup still didn't have a name, so she just called him E.

"E," Dr. White called again before opening the door. He was rolling on the floor, playing with a stuffed bunny she had given him. He looked up at her with curious amethyst eyes, then jumped up and ran to Dr. White and leaped up and down like a domestic puppy greeting his master at the door.

Dr. White couldn't help but smile. She knelt down and pet him; he jumped up and licked her hand. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of beef jerky. E backed away a little and sat down staring longingly at the piece of meat then at Dr. White. Dr. White held it in front of his face and E ate it gratefully.

Dr. White stood up and set his breakfast tray on the small bed. She sat down and patted the seat next to her.

E padded over to her, hunched down; preparing to jump, then leapt into the air and grabbed hold the bed's edge. E began to slip and whimpered and kicked, trying to get a foot hold on something. Dr. White reached out and pulled him up by his scruff.

He settled down across from her. She handed him a piece of bacon from the tray, and he wolfed it down like a starving Labrador. He bent down and sniffed the rest of the meat on the tray; bacon, ham, some turkey, and a chunk of raw steak.

He reached down with his muzzle and took a chunk of ham in his mouth. Dr. White had taken a granola bar from her pocket and was eating it. She looked over at E; he stared at her with his huge amethyst eyes, the hunk of ham hanging out of his mouth.

Dr. White laughed, werehog puppies were the cutest thing ever.

Dr. White's watch beeped. It was 10:00.

She stood up and walked towards the door. E stopped eating and ran to the edge of the bed, his huge amethyst eyes begging her to stay.

"Don't worry E, I'll be back later," she reassured, and then closed the door.

The next few days were the same. Dr. White would come in the morning and greet E, slip him an extra piece of beef jerky and give him his breakfast. She would leave at 10:00 for her other work, then come back at 12:30 and give him his lunch and play with him afterwards. At 6:45 she came in and gave E his dinner and tuck him into bed and turned on his nightlight (Dr. White found out very quickly he was afraid of the dark) and turned off the lights.

The night before when Dr. White patted the seat next to her for E to go to bed, he had jumped up effortlessly and crawled into bed.

_And to think that only a few days ago he could barely jump up without any help. _Thought Dr. White as she tucked him into bed.

The next morning seemed like any other morning; Dr. White prepared E's breakfast of meat and bacon and strolled over to his cell. She opened the door casually.

"E, I hope you're hungry, because I have a big breakfast for you!"

"Alright!" exclaimed E in a little kid's voice and jumped up and down.

Dr. White gasped. He was talking. He wasn't supposed to be talking yet. Werehogs started talking when they were about a year and a half to two years old. E was barely a month!

Dr. White dropped the tray and stared in horror at E.

E tilted his head sideways. "Dr. White, are you OK? You look all whitish," inquired E innocently.

Dr. White was speechless. What was she supposed to say? That he shouldn't be talking yet?

And not only was he talking, he had grown. He looked like he was at least three years old!

Behind her, a soldier marched through the hallways. He stopped when he saw Dr. White.

"Is everything alright ma'am?" he asked, then he saw E, no longer a newborn puppy but a three-year-old.

The soldier slowly lifted his gun and aimed at E. E tilted his head, wondering what the man was pointing at him.

The soldier fired. A dart materialized, injected in E's neck. E staggered, surprised by the impact of the dart. Suddenly, his eye lids became heavy and he became unusually sleepy. He staggered for around his cell for a few minutes, and then fell to the ground, fast asleep.

The general burst through the door and into the lab.

"What happened?!" demanded the general, his face red with anger.

The scientists turned around in surprise. Above them in the capsule was E with wires stuck to his pelt and massive ebony and blood-red wings. Over his muzzle was an oxygen mask.

Dr. Lynx was the first to speak. "We're not sure. Somehow E-148's growth has increased at an alarming rate. It seems that as a side effect to his creation was accelerated growth,"

"Oh, that's it? I thought it was his Black Diamond side had finally come out,"

"No, and it is a good thing it didn't," commented a blond-haired man. "You see, when we fused the deoxyribonucleic acid of that Black Diamond werehog, oh what was his name?"

"Um, Ebon I think," replied the general.

"Yes, Ebon, that's it. Well when we alloyed the DNA of Ebon with the DNA of Pallid the Opal werehog, there was, how should I say it; a chemical reaction between the two,"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, usually an Opal and a Black Diamond would never mate, because they're so different; one is peace loving and the other is a warlord. The Black Diamond dominates the Opal, like with the colors black and white; it only takes a small drop of black to affect the white, but it takes a lot of white to affect the black,"

"So you're basically cross-breeding different werehog types with of animals?"

"Yes that's basically what Project: USS is; cross-breeding different species in order to create the ultimate super soldier," said Dr. Lynx, annoyed by the general. "When we added the Flying Fox Bat, Strike's DNA into the mix, it completely altered his genotype, giving him his wings, and they're color comes from Ebon's fur color; jet black, like most Black Diamond werehogs, except he had red streaks, imagine that! A Black Diamond with _red_ streaks," exclaimed Dr. Lynx.

"What's the big about a Black Diamond with red streaks?" asked the general, as if was no more interesting than watching grass grow.

"Black Diamond werehogs fur and eyes usually range from pitch black to gray; any other colors are very rare in a purebred Black Diamond. His phenotype is entirely based upon the DNA samples from Ebon, Pallid, and Strike," Dr. Lynx concluded.

"I see, go on,"

"Ebon's fur color completely altered E-148's wing allele, giving him his slightly demonic appearance. Pallid's fur color gene was dominate over Ebon's black fur and Strike's brown fur, which gave E his alabaster fur. His eyes are very interesting however; we believe it was a combination of Ebon's crimson eyes and sky blue eyes gave E his amethyst eyes.

"We've also discovered Ebon's, Pallid's, and Strike's inherited alleles; Ebon is one recessive and one dominate, and Pallid is two dominate. Strike's inherited alleles are very interesting; both recessive,"

The general yawned. "Yes, this all very nice, but what about his Black Diamond side? When will we see it come out?" asked the general eagerly.

Dr. Lynx turned to the capsule containing E. "We're not sure, and let's hope it doesn't come out at the wrong time,"

"What about his transformation? Has he transformed yet?"

"No, not yet, but maybe…" Dr. Lynx hesitated for a moment, thinking over what the general just said. Then it hit him. "Of course!"

"What? What is it?"

"His Black Diamond side hasn't come out yet because it's in his transformation,"

"Are you sure?"

"No, but there is a strong possibility, the probability is at least one in three chances of my theory being correct,"

The general stared up at the capsule, his power hungry eyes ablaze. "Then as soon as you're done with all this, send him to the Test Room and have him transform. Let's see what happens,"

Two years went by, and Dr. Lynx's theory proved to be correct. When E transformed, his Black Diamond side immediately emerged and his Opal side disappeared with his white fur. When he transformed, his white fur and amethyst eyes faded away and were replaced by jet black fur and crimson eyes. Not only did his appearance change, but his personality changed as well; instead of being a sweet, peace loving alabaster werehog with amethyst eyes, he became a mean, battle hungry jet black warlord with crimson eyes. And he could not be easily controlled.

He destroyed anyone and anything in his path, many scientists and guards barely escaping with their lives.

But despite his violent other half, the scientists gave him many privileges, and even had his room transferred from Cell Block C to Cell Block A (since the general refused to have E moved to one of the "guest" rooms in HAC), E was allowed to come and go out of his cell as he pleased and roam throughout almost every place within HAC.

One day in the middle of March, Dr. White was walking through the halls of Cell Block A, carrying a tray with a turkey sandwich, a cup of orange soda, and a side of potato chips.

Dr. White turned at one of cell doors and opened it. Inside the mid-sized white room with a twin bed with blue sheets up against the wall on the right, behind it was a bantam wooden dresser, and scattered across the floor were random toys scattered throughout the white floors given to him by Dr. White.

"I hope you're hungry E, because I got a big breakfast for you!" Dr. White repeated her usual morning greeting. E was lying on the floor, staring at a bird he drawn on a piece of paper on the floor. He flashed a weak smile then returned his attention back to the colorful pencil bird.

Dr. White set his breakfast on the bed and knelt down by E. She put her gentle hand on his back; he had the body of at least a ten-year-old now.

"E, what's wrong?" asked Dr. White concerned. He was never like this.

He stared up at her with his huge amethyst eyes. "Dr. White, why don't I have a name?"

Dr. White just stared at him, a little taken off guard. He had just asked the very same question she had been asking herself since the very first day of his creation.

"Um, I don't know," she answered honestly. "Why would ask something like that?"

"Because everybody else has a name, you, Dr. Lynx, everybody," his amethyst eyes seemed to get even bigger (if that was possible).

Dr. White tried to look away from those innocent amethyst puppy eyes, but she couldn't. How could she say no to a face like that?

"I'll tell you what, I'll go talk to the rest of the scientists and we'll come up with a name for you, sound good?"

E nodded his head eagerly. "Uh-huh,"

She pet his soft head. "Alright then, I'll be right back," promised Dr. White.

She stood up and walked towards the door, she stopped and looked back at E, and he smiled. She smiled back and closed the door.

"He wants a name?"

"Yes sir, he asked why everybody else has one and he doesn't," replied Dr. White in a calm voice.

The general groaned and put his powerful hand on his forehead. "Don't we spoil this thing enough? It's bad enough he's allowed to wonder the hallways, and now he wants a name?" the general snarled.

"Ungrateful little brat," muttered the general under his breath.

"Oh, come on, it's just a name. What's the harm?" asked Dr. Lynx.

"Yes, he's so sweet, a name wouldn't do any harm," agreed a female blond-furred humanoid cat named Tammy Drame, a new scientist at HAC.

"I have a name suggestion," said Prof. Ash, a male (humanoid) Wolfian with dark brown fur and grey eyes.

"What?" asked Dr. Dibs, curious.

"Tarkamos,"

The cornel raised one of his thick eyebrows. "Tarkamos?"

"Yes, Tarkamos, it's Decorian for 'artificial spirit'. General, what do you think?"

"Fine. But don't come back to me for anything else concerning E-148," the general growled.

_'Artificial spirit'? That's no better than E-148!_ Thought Dr. White. _Why do they have to be so cruel?_

Dr. White closed the door to Tarkamos' room. She hated the name the scientists had given him. He didn't know any Decorian and Prof. Ash didn't seem real eager to teach it to him (Decorian was one of the main languages within the Packs).

So until she could come up with a better name for him she just called him "Tar" for short.

At 2:30 they were going to have Tar try out his transformation again in the Test Room again, but this time they were going to be a little more prepared this time around.

"Ah, Dr. White, how is little Tarkamos doing these days, hm?"

Dr. White froze. It was Deathhorn.

Dr. White's narrowed her eyes. "What do you want Deathhorn?"

"I just want to see how our little experiment is fairing," said Deathhorn innocently.

Dr. White took a step back defensively. "He's doing fine,"

"Good, good," said Deathhorn, slowly making his way towards Dr. White.

Dr. White tensed. She had never been this close to him before. Never been so close to a cold-blooded predator.

"You should leave. You don't have clearance to be here," Dr White said in a shaky voice.

"True, I don't have clearance," answered Deathhorn calmly. He pushed his face into her's; Dr. White took a step back. He was but mere inches away from her face.

"But if it wasn't for me Tarkamos wouldn't exist," hissed Deathhorn.

Dr. White gulped. She knew he was right. He always was. It was a game to him. He was like a demon; he took your worst fears and shoved them in your face, slowly taking control of your mind and your sanity. How could such a sweet creature little like Tar be created by a cold-blooded monster like this?

Deathhorn sulked away down the long white corridor. Dr. White was frozen in place.

_Now I'm starting to realize why Deathhorn was locked up in the first place._ Thought Dr. White grimly.

From what she knew, Deathhorn had been arrested because his experiments had gone too far. But Dr. White had known it was much worse than that; the government was trying to hide their mistakes, like with Scourge Shard. The newspapers said he was nothing more than a petty thief living on the streets and went a little too far when he stole a senator's wallet. But Dr. White had done a little research and found out they arrested him because he had somehow gotten a hold of the deadly chemical known as Serum X from a group of local black market liquor sellers. As a result, Scourge had become a blood-thirsty relentless killer; striking down and savagely slaughtering anyone who dared to defy him, and killing them in the most gruesome and painful way possible: ripping out their organs out with his bare hands. Serum X also had a nasty effect on Snipps, Scourge's pet chao, and had turned her into a Wolfian and just as dangerous and savage killer as Scourge. To hide the truth about Serum X and the effect of their lethal experiment, they had him arrested and bribed the newspapers to make up a story about him stealing a senator's wallet. Of course before Scourge had ever gotten a hold of Serum X, he really was just a petty thief, but there were so many gangs, rouges, and thieves in that area of town that the police never bothered to catch them all. And they paid the price for it.

Deathhorn wasn't much different. Based on the rumors and what she had been able to find out so far, Deathhorn had kidnapped innocent children who wondered too close to his secret lab and shackling them from the bottom of their feet to the tops of their heads, throwing them in a filthy rat-infested, gloomy cell, and were fed next to nothing and the food that was given to them was near inedible. They were meant to be Deathhorn's test subjects for his experiments. She had even heard rumor that he beat and whipped them whenever they misbehaved or tried to escape. Many never made out alive. Some never made it out at all. The "subjects" were subjected to cruel mistreatment and sometimes near fatal experiments, once Dr. White heard a rumor of a child who had been mutated into something nearly as dangerous and as ugly as Project X, almost like a super induced Frankenstein. And Deathhorn's most infamous subject; a Gold werehog from the Gold Pack. Rumor has it that the young male werehog was the son of the late Golden Alpha, Oak Hedge. The young werehog was kidnapped when he was hunting in the forest not far from Deathhorn's lab, only a few days after the Gold Pack was raided and Oak was killed and the Packs scattered at the beginning of the Carnage (also known as the Wereian Holocaust).The little werehog was only eight at the time of his capture. The young male was taken by surprise by a pair of Deathhorn's guards and taken to his lab where he was kept as a subject for over four years, where he endured cruel mistreatment and whippings and experiments. And according to rumor, Deathhorn had unleashed his fury on the pup and tore his huge claws into the young werehog's chest, nearly killing him, them subjected him to a special cell to severely chained from head to toe and imprisoned there until his near fatal chest wound healed. A little over four years after his imprisonment, he escaped. Some say now he lives up in Oak Field, Minnesota with a beautiful wife and enough kids to make a small Pack. But he is forever scarred by the memories of Deathhorn's cruelty, the images of his massive claws raking his soft chest. He is eternally scarred, both emotionally and physically. And he says he has the scars to prove it. About a decade after the young werehog escaped, he had exposed Deathhorn for what he had done to him. After it started getting in the papers, the government immediately arrested him, because the government had done business with Deathhorn before because he was such a brilliant scientist and his formulas were ingenious, and the government didn't want word getting out in the public that the government did business with a cold-blooded child killer. So for years the government paid millions of dollars to keep the press quiet and Deathhorn out of the paper. And they succeeded. But not before some word leaked out into the public. And the young werehog, the only known subject to escape Deathhorn's grasp, refused to keep quiet to a government that had tried to kill him, a government that had killed his father. After all, it was the government that had started the Carnage in the first place.

Tarkamos casually wondered through the dark corridors of HAC, it was "closing time" as Dr. Dibs said. It was almost time for Tarkamos to retire to his room and go to sleep, but first, he wanted to see if Dr. White would sneak him and extra piece of beef jerky. She always snuck him extra pieces beef jerky and other treats. She was his best friend in all of HAC.

Friend was a new word he had just learned and felt smart using it. Only, he still wasn't really sure what a friend was yet, but he guessed Dr. White was one.

"Ah. Tarkamos, is it?"

Tarkamos stopped and turned his head towards the sound. Behind him was a humanoid lizard with tribal tattoos running from his left eye to the tip of his long tail, a huge scar ran down his milky, right eye and to the edge of his jaw, and two enormous scarred and red-inked tribal tattooed horns rose up from his massive head. His scalely body was littered with bruises and cuts and around his arm was a white bandage with the blood soaking through. His hands were folded behind his back and his back was hunched over ever so slightly.

"A-Are you talking to me?" asked Tarkamos in his high-pitched, innocent-sounding voice and pointed to his chest.

"Yes. Tarkamos is it?"

The young winged werehog smiled brightly and turned towards the stranger. "Yep! Prof. Ash gave me the name!"

"Yes, yes, I know. Now tell me, have you ever thought of running away?"

Tarkamos' smile disappeared and he stared the strange lizard with huge shining, naïve amethyst eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"I mean have you ever thought of leaving HAC?"

Tarkamos paused for a few moments and put his hand on his chin and looked down at the floor and scrunched up his eye brows in deep concentration.

He looked up at the strange lizard again and shook his head. "Nope,"

"Well you should," he replied curtly and stared down coldly at the small snow white werehog.

He tilted his head to the side. "Why?"

Deathhorn bent his head down to Tarkamos' height and stopped right in front of his face. The young werehog took a step back and stared naïvely back into those cold, menacing eyes with innocent, curious amethyst eyes.

The stranger's face grew solemn and his eyes softened. "Go down the hall. You should pass by three doors. At the third door stop and listen in on the conversation,"

"You want me to _spy_ on people?" exclaimed Tarkamos, completely bewildered at the very thought of spying. "But Dr. White said – "

"I don't _care_ what Dr. White said!" snarled the stranger.

Tarkamos took a step back and seemed to have shrunk; his ears lowed at the stranger's harsh words.

He had hurt him. Great. He would be even harder to convince now.

Tarkamos gulped and took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

"I won't spy. Spying is wrong. Dr. White said it's not good to go poking your nose where it doesn't belong," he said in his firmest voice.

Deathhorn had to resist the urge to laugh. It was so naïve sounding. He may have the body of a ten-year-old, but he was acting like a four-year-old. Doing exactly what people told him to do. Well, hopefully he could get him to change his mind before the moment came for him to die.

He straightened himself to his full height. "Very well then. Suit yourself," he said and passed by little Tarkamos like he wasn't even there. Tarkamos stared after the mysterious stranger as he disappeared down the hall.

But before he disappeared completely from sight he called over his shoulder: "Just don't come crying back to me when they lead you to your doom!" he put an extra dark emphasis on the word _doom._ And then he vanished down the long corridor of HAC.

Tarkamos stared after him, confused about his words. _"Just don't come crying back to me when they lead you to your doom!" _What did he mean? Who was gonna lead him to his doom? What was a "doom" anyway?

He stood there, staring after the strange lizard and contemplating his even stranger words. What did he mean?

He shook his head and continued on towards Dr. White's office to see if she would sneak him and extra piece of beef jerky.

He kept walking down the seemingly endless metal corridor as he passed by one door and then another and then another…

"Shut up! I knew we should've gotten rid of him while we had the chance!"

Tarkamos stopped. That was the general's voice. And he sounded angry.

Tarkamos slowly crept up to the doorway where the general's voice had come from; peering through a small crack in the door (the door wasn't closed all the way). Dr. White always told him never to poke his nose where it didn't belong, but he was curious, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?

The general and Dr. Lynx were talking in hushed voices so Tarkamos leaned in closer to listen to what the general and Dr. Lynx were talking about.

"He has to go. You saw what he did to the Test Room, he completely destroyed it! When that , that, weredevil is transformed like that he's nothing but a complete, mindless monster, a demon! An angry, carnage drunk DEMON! It took five sleeping darts just to get him to calm down! Not to mention what it took to get him out of his transformation and into his cell. It's just not worth it!"

"But sir-"protested Dr. Lynx.

"But NOTHING! Tomorrow I want a team of elite guards to bind him in heavy restraint cuffs and escort him straight to the Abolition Chambers to be decommissioned. I believe it's time to put an end to Project: E-148, permanently." commanded the raging general.

Tarkamos staggered back, panicking. Decommissioned. He shuddered at the thought. Then he realized that that weird stranger had been trying to warn him. He turned in the opposite direction and bolted down the long, endless corridor, went past the row of labs and the steel doors leading to the endless row of cells. He stopped in front of a tremendous steel door and stood on his tippy-toes and typed in the code to open it. A low hissing sound filled his wolf-like ears and then the door slowly slid open. He ran past the rows of planes and jets and trucks and other strange vehicles he didn't recognize and ran as fast as he could to the exit. He skidded to a halt in front of it. He turned his head and looked behind him, his amethyst eyes shaking with fear, checking to make sure he wasn't being followed. He shook his head and took deep breathes to try and calm himself. He typed in the code to open the enormous steel door. It opened with a loud hiss and then slid open without another sound. He bolted out of the hanger as soon as the doors opened wide enough for him to fit through. Tarkamos flapped his huge black and blood-red wings, briefly lifting off the ground before he fell back down. Despite his huge wings, he didn't actually know how to fly.

He raced through this thick grove of plants that he thought could only be a "forest" as he thought it was called. Tarkamos tripped over a tree root and scrambled to get back up again, running into a tree branch as he got up and scratched his face. Tears were streaming down his face as he left the place he had once called "home". This continued until he reached the top of a large hill and stopped to rest. He was panting hard and bent over and pressed his hands against his knees. He turned his head back to look back at HAC.

He looked back at HAC. _Why...?_ He thought. _What did I do wrong...? How could you do this to me?_ He looked away and kept running.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a storm was coming.

Up ahead, Tarkamos spotted a shed or a small hay barn in the distance (he couldn't really tell) and scrambled to it for shelter from the approaching weather, the first trickles of the rainstorm chilled him to his bones.

He quickly crept behind a small stack of hay in the corner and sat, with his enormous wings wrapped around like an egg shell, shielding him from the outside world, and wept.

It had only been a few minutes before the door to the hay shed (or whatever it was) creaked opened.

"Now where did I leave that stupid bracelet, maybe I left behind the hay...? Oh!" Cherry gasped when she saw Tarkamos, cowering in the corner behind his huge wings, his amethyst eyes wide with fear.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in our shed...?" she stared at his giant, ebony wings, hiding his face and the rest of his body. "What are you...?" Tarkamos scooted farther in the corner.

Cherry reached out for the young, frightened werehog.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you," Tarkamos' muscles tensed as he stared in horror at Cherry's out-stretch hand reaching for him.

She stroked his wing gently; Tarkamos relaxed a bit and let his wings fall a little so she could see him, enough to tell he was a werehog, and to get a better look at her face. She was a red humanoid bunny with dirty blond hair and shining lavender eyes.

"Who are you anyway?" asked the scarlet bunny.

"I'm Project: E-148, at least, that's my number, but my name is Tarkamos. I'm a winged werehog from HAC," Tarkamos stated and paused. "You're not gonna take me back, are you?" he asked, his amethyst eyes filled with alarm.

Cherry folded her arms and leaned against the stack of hay. "Well that depends, why did you leave HAC?"

"I overheard the general and Dr. Lynx talking about me, and the general said I should be..." he gulped. "Decommissioned."

Cherry stared at him with concern and sympathy. "Geez, no wonder you left, and, if my Decorian if correct, you do know Tarkamos means 'artificial spirit', right?"

"What?!" Tarkamos stared in disbelief and horror at this news.

"I guess not, well, I guess we could come up with a new more 'suitable' name for you. How about Taros?"

"What does it mean?"

"It means 'free spirit', and friend," she took his hand in hers.

"You don't need to run anymore, you're not alone, I…" Cherry hesitated, fighting the tears that threatened to stream down her wet face. "I know what it's like to be alone,"

She squeezed his hand a little. "And I want to help you in any way I can,"

Taros' wings unfolded and he stared at this mysterious red bunny and gazed into her sweet lavender eyes.

"You, you would do that for me?" asked Taros in complete and utter surprise.

Cherry smiled warmly at him. "Of course! That's what friends do for each other!"

Taros smiled at her, he never had a friend before, well, and he guessed Dr. White was a friend, but he wasn't really sure. Taros only vaguely knew the meaning of the word 'friend', but he knew it was a good thing. "Thank you. What's your number?"

She smiled warmly at him and chuckled at his question. "You're welcome, and I don't have a number, I have a name, it's Cherry, Cherry Starclaw."

Did this for a science project. These events occur later in the Star Claws Saga. MUCH later. Decided to post it because it was finished. Enjoy! REVIEW! (Ain't Taros just the cutest? :D )


	3. Chapter 2: Trag

Prologue

Time: 1600

Place: Area 51

The general set the papers down on the dimly lit, steel table.

"Eight weeks. So far Project: E-148 has turned out to be a general failure,"

"What do you mean a "general _failure_"?"

"Well for starters the DNA fusion worked. I mean look at it, the kid's got giant bat wings. But on the other hand, he's _certainly_ no fighter. The only time I've seen him even the _least _bit aggressive is when he's transformed. Other than that, he's practically useless as a soldier. And besides, even when he's transformed he's nearly impossible to control _and_ he destroys everything in sight. Not to mention he doesn't even know how to _use _his wings,"

"And whose fault is that, General?" retorted the shadowy figure across from the general.

The general leaned in closer. His face was hard and his eyes cold. "Not matter. I'm not happy with the results, Deathhorn. Not happy at all," the general replied. He said the last sentence through gritted teeth, as if it were the only thing that kept him from strangling the abomination sitting across from him.

The figure chuckled, unaffected by the general's scalding tone. "Oh General, that was only the _first_ experiment. The first experiment is never the best one. Think of it as, a prototype. A first draft to the _real_ thing,"

"I don't care _what_ you call it, Deathhorn, I just want _results!_" pouted the general through gritted teeth in a deep, menacing voice. His iron first pounded against the steel table at the _what _and _results._

"Oh please. You'll get your results. You just have to be patient. These things take _time_, General. _Time._ You didn't _seriously _think that E-148 was going to be your _"Ultimate Super Soldier"_ did you?" retorted Deathhorn in an almost mocking tone, putting extra emphasis on _time_ and said _Ultimate Super Soldier_ like he were humoring a retarded child.

The general leaned back in his chair in silence and glared at Deathhorn. Oh, how he _hated_ that over-sized lizard.

Deathhorn smiled at this, clearly enjoying his small victory. "It's simple. The first experiment simply tells us what we've done right, and what we can improve on. For instance; the DNA fusion was successful and worked _beautifully_, but we know now that next time we need to add a little more war-loving werehog DNA into the mix and less peace-loving werehog DNA into the mix. Plus, we need to add a DNA of a more… aggressive animal into the mix. A Flying Fox Bat wasn't the best choice necessarily. It's not like the beasts are violent in any sort of way," Deathhorn paused for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts. "And, as for the accelerated growth, that was a nice touch. That will certainly come in handy for our next experiment,"

"_Next experiment?"_

"Yes, the _next_ experiment, you nimrod. E-148 was only the beginning. You didn't really think that E-148 was going to be the final draft to the Ultimate Super Soldier, _did you?_ Oh no. No, no, no. E-148 was just an experiment to see what we can and cannot do, what we did right, and what we did wrong," replied Deathhorn, his voice dropped to an even darker tone at the last few words.

"Yes, yes, I understand that part, but what do you mean by the accelerated growth coming in handy?"

Deathhorn stared at the general like he was the most naïve, _idiot_ on the face of the earth.

"General, are you _that narrow-minded?_ Think, General._ Think._ Wouldn't an _older_ werehog, with more experience, and better developed muscles and brain, be more powerful than a young,_ peace-loving_, were_puppy?" _

The General smiled darkly, his power-hungry eyes gleamed in the dim light like a starving cougar that had his eyes set on his next meal. As much as he hated, and he did mean _hated,_ that over-sized, scalely, abomination, he had to admit, he liked the way he thinked.

"What do you have in mind, Deathhorn?"

Deathhorn grinned darkly, revealing a row of glistening, dagger-sharp, yellow teeth. His one clear-blue eye gleamed like a cat in the dark that made the scar that ran down from the top of his milky eye to the bottom of his jaw stand out more than ever.

Deathhorn pushed a small, red button on the table and a touch screen popped up in front of him. He typed in a file name and a picture of a gigantic lizard with huge jaws appeared on a screen just to the left of him.

"Have you ever considered adding a little crocodile to the mix, General?"

Trag

Time: 300

Place: HAC Labs

Project: E-157

Prof. Ash yawned and looked up at the capsule. It had been nearly six months since the successful creation of E-148 and the experiments had continued without delay.

"Sir, can we go home now? It's three in the morning. Can't we continue this at a later hour?" yawned a new scientist named Daniel Drakes, a humanoid lynx and cousin of Dr. Lynx.

Prof. Ash sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Unfortunately, no. The general wants us to finish it this tonight. Or at least until we finish this phase of the experiment,"

"And then we can go home?"

"Yes. And then we can go home and go to sleep. Your cousin and Dr. Dibs will take care of the rest as soon as we finish this up. And then they'll call us when it's finished to see if this one's a fluke or a success,"

"Ah. I see. Well, um, why does it need to be done _tonight?" _inquired Dr. Drakes.

"I don't know. The general's been rather crabby lately," Prof. Ash sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, the general's becoming almost as crazy Deathhorn,"

Dr. Drakes nodded in agreement and returned his attention to the keyboard on the capsule. A light blinked on the screen above the keyboard.

"What is it?" asked Prof. Ash casually and padded over to the keyboard to take a look.

Dr. Drakes punched in a few numbers into the keyboard. Something beeped and two of the lights blinked red.

"I-I'm not sure. Something's wrong with the DNA stabilizer," stammered Dr. Drakes.

"What do you mean something's wrong with the DNA stabilizer?"

"I don't know! A glitch in the system. Whatever it is, something's wrong. Very wrong," his voice was solemn and grim, like he had just announced the world was going to end the next day.

Prof. Ash groaned, frustrated and annoyed. "Step aside," he grunted and pushed Dr. Drakes out of the way. He frantically typed on the keyboard, the rows of endless numbers on the screen reflected off his glasses.

"It's not working!" said Dr. Drakes, his voice rising in pitch and panic. The fear in his eyes was impossible to miss.

"I know!" snapped Prof. Ash at the young scientist, his amber eyes never leaving the screen, with small beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face and onto the floor.

Suddenly a wild idea popped into Prof. Ash's head. One that would probably get him in trouble, maybe even fired. But he had no other option.

He typed in a command into the keyboard. "I'm shutting it down," announced Prof. Ash to no one in particular.

Dr. Drakes' muddled amber-yellow eyes widen in panic. "You can't do that! W-we'll lose everything! We'll lose everything we worked so hard on with this experiment!"

Prof. Ash whipped his head around to face the inexperienced scientist, his grey eyes burned with a deadly inferno that seemed to scorch Dr. Drakes to his very core.

"Do you have a better idea?!" bellowed Prof. Ash. Dr. Drakes flinched and turned his gaze to the floor.

"No," he muttered. He sounded almost exactly like a little kid admitting that he smashed the fancy vase in the living room.

Prof. Ash gave a curt nod and brought his attention back to the keyboard, typing in the final command to shut down the experiment.

At first, it seemed to be working, the lights on the control panel dimming and the humming from the capsule fading.

But it didn't matter. It was too late.

The capsule miracuasly started powering up again, stronger than before. It sounded like it was going to blow.

Prof. Ash's eyes widened and the spontaneous fire that appeared in them died instantly, as if someone had just poured a thousand gallons over it.

"GET DOWN!" screamed Prof. Ash lunged at Dr. Drakes, pulling him down by the waist and onto the floor. They hunched down, squeezing their eyes tight, bracing for impact.

It never came. Just when they thought it was going to explode into a million tiny shards and go soaring through the air and decimate in a fiery rain, it just stopped. The command had worked. It immediately powered down just at the peak of what Prof. Ash and Dr. Drakes thought it would explode in their faces.

The room was silent. Utterly silent. The power had gone out. It was as if the capsule had sucked every last drop of electricity out of the room. It was pitch black. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of Prof. Ash's and Dr. Drakes' own breathing.

"A-Are you alright?" breathed Prof. Ash, standing up. He couldn't see Dr. Drakes, but he knew he was right next to him. He could smell the young scientist's fear and feel the tip of his tail on his ankle.

"I, I t-think so," replied Dr. Drakes, his voice was coarse, but he was alright. Safe.

Prof. Ash nodded, even though he knew Dr. Drakes wouldn't be able to see it. "Good," breathed Prof. Ash. "Good."

Something had caught his attention. He tried to feel his way around. There it was again. That noise. It sounded like a small…whimper. He figured it could've been Dr. Drakes, but no, it was too small and too far away to be him. It sound like it was coming from…the capsule?

_Nonsense._ Scolded Prof. Ash to himself. But he kept going. Feeling his way through the darkness and to the capsule.

Something hard and round materialized in front of him. Prof. Ash felt around its sides. Definitely the capsule.

He felt around the base of it, searching for…he found it. The release button. He pushed it and the capsule opened with a slow _swoosh._ Prof. Ash imagined steam spilling out of its sides, pouring down onto the floor, making whatever came out of it even more mysterious and terrifying. Like in the movies. But that almost never happened.

The metal covering around the capsule folded into the ceiling and stopped with a metallic _clinck!_ Then silence again. All except for that strange noise.

It was even louder now. A new scent wafted up to Prof. Ash's sensitive noise. He sniffed, unable to identify the scent. But it smelled…swampy. And Wereian.

"What's that?" asked Dr. Drakes cautiously. Almost afraid.

Prof. Ash didn't register the question until several seconds later. He shook his head, clearing his mind. "I have no idea," he reached his hand out towards the capsule. "Let's find out."

A sharp yelp of surprise made Prof. Ash gasp and quickly draw his hand back. The tip of his fingers had just grazed the edge of something…furry. Scalely.

The entrance to the lab suddenly opened and the lights flicked on. The general marched in with several soldiers all carrying assault rifles.

Prof. Ash took a step back. Not from the general, but from the capsule. Inside was a bright green werepuppy with vivid red-orange quills running along the top of its huge head like a mohawk and a long, scalely crocodile tail, and intense, pale yellow eyes.

"Prof. Ash, what happened?" demanded the general, his power-hungry eyes darting in every direction, looking the room over.

Prof. Ash didn't even notice. He reached his now shaking hand out to the werepuppy again, slowly and cautiously. His breathing had quickened and his neck was slick with sweat. Prof. Ash held his hand in front of the puppy's face, scared to move it any closer. It sniffed his hand for at least a minute, running its nose across every square millimeter of his hand before he finally licked it.

Prof. Ash cracked a smile, more so out of relief that it didn't try to bite his hand off, it being half crocodile and all, as it muzzled its head under his hand. It looked up at the Prof; it almost seemed to be smiling at him.

"Prof. Ash!"

Prof. Ash blinked, regaining his footing on reality, and turned his gaze to the general.

"Y-yes sir?" asked Prof. Ash in a shaky voice, his fingers slowly and gently stroking the top of the werepuppy's head. It licked his hand again.

"What _happened?"_ demanded the general, saying each syllable slowly and menacingly.

Prof. Ash hesitated for a few moments. "Well, you see sir; we were finishing up Phase 2 of the experiment when all of a sudden something went wrong with the DNA stabilizer. We tried to shut it down after nothing else seemed to be working. At first, it seemed like it was powering down, but then it started up again, stronger this time, we thought it was going to explode. And," Prof. Ash paused for a brief moment before he continued. "And right before we thought it was going to blow, it just shut down. Completely. Everything shut down. And then I heard this whimpering, and, well," she looked down at the werepuppy nosing his hand affectionately. He looked up at the general again. "We found this,"

For the first time, the general looked at the werepuppy in the capsule. He smiled hungrily. "Oh. I see," he said, not casually, but like someone who had just been shown and offered a giant suitcase full of cash.

He stepped up to the capsule and loomed over the werepuppy. It looked up at the general, slowly and silently scooting away from him. He almost seemed to be _glaring_ at the general.

The general grabbed the helpless puppy by the scruff and held him in the air, examining him closer. The werepuppy squirmed and kicked, trying in vain to nip at the general's hand or wrist.

"Which one is this?" asked the general casually, without taking his eyes off of the pup, who continued to fight his captor's iron grip.

Prof. Ash shook his head, trying again to clear his head. "Um, E-157, sir," he replied.

The general nodded. "I see. Well, is one of the ones with crocodile mix?"

"Yes sir," it was Dr. Drakes who answered. There was a small cut on his left check, but nothing serious.

"Perfect," replied the general curtly, refusing to take his eyes off of the werepuppy. It let out a sharp yip and then continued to growl and squirm.

"Well, you see fellows," the general turned his gaze away from the werepuppy and looked around at the people gathered. "This is what we're looking for: fighters. This is exactly what we're trying to get at. This right here is-"he never finished the sentence. The general had made the terrible mistake of lowering arm just low enough for the werepuppy to reach and snap at. The general yowled and screamed in pain as the werepuppy held on with its powerful jaws clamped tightly around the general's wrist.

He tried to shake the werepuppy off, spinning around the room and crashing into the walls and control panels and test tubes laid out on the counters, falling and shattering onto the grey floor. But the more the general struggled, the harder the werepuppy's jaws clamped down, blood splattering onto the floor, staining it with deadly pools of crimson.

A huge glob of a yellowish goo splattered onto the wall closest to Prof. Ash. It slid down like slow dripping, gooey blood.

_That's a lot of spit from such a little fellow._ Contemplated Prof. Ash. He froze. It wasn't spit. He peered closer at it; his grey eyes squinted in deep concentration. Then it hit him. It hit him like a freight train traveling at five hundred miles an hour.

It wasn't spit. It was venom. The venom of a werehog. Moon Venom.

Moon Venom was a deadly poison that grew in the back of a werehog's throat and could be transferred into its victim through the fangs, like a cobra. But instead of it killing the victim, it transformed them into a werehog as well. And many people agree it would be better to die than fall victim to a Wereian's maddening venom.

"General STOP!" screamed Prof. Ash. The general stopped for a very brief moment, his eyes wide with undisguisable fear. He stared down at the werepuppy clasping his bloody wrist. Small drops of Moon Venom were dripping down the werepuppy's huge fangs. The general's eyes were as wide as full moons; his pupils had shriveled down to a tiny black radish seed. He screamed, trying even harder to shake the werepuppy off. He knew what it was. He knew what it could do to a person. And that's what terrified him the most.

But the werepuppy only clamped down harder, making the venom travel down its fangs even faster.

The general's screams sent a thousand shivers up Prof. Ash's spine. His screams were loud and high pitched and…inhuman. Animal. Insane.

The venom was only a few millimeters away from touching the general's bloodied and exposed skin. Out of nowhere the werepuppy was yanked back and the venom splattered onto the floor. It released the general's wrist and let out a sharp cry of surprise from suddenly being yanked back. It squirmed and kicked for several seconds before it let itself go limp, glaring coldly at the general with intense, pale yellow eyes.

Holding the werepuppy was Dr. Drakes, his amber-yellow eyes wide with panic, his whole body shaking and parts of him slick with sweat.

The general was shaking uncontrollably, half from the pain, half from fear, cradling his bloodied wrist and letting out sharp gasps of pain as he stared wide-eyed in terror at the splattered yellowish venom splattered on the floor that had been only millimeters away from infecting him.

The werepuppy growled menacingly at him, its huge fangs dipped in scarlet, and then looked up at Dr. Drakes innocently and curiously.

Dr. Drakes swallowed; terrified that it would try to bite him too. But it just stared at him with innocent, pale yellow eyes.

Something told Dr. Drakes that it wouldn't hurt him, so he carefully brought the werepuppy in closer, his arms so shaky he was afraid he would drop it. He cradled the werepuppy in his arms, his legs shaking hard. The werepuppy cocked his head to the side and put its paw on Dr. Drakes' chest.

He let out a very sharp breath. The werepuppy put its second paw against Dr. Drakes' chest, trying to get closer to his head. He sniffed Dr. Drakes' chin for a few moments, then rested its head on his shoulder, nudging him affectionately.

Dr. Drakes let out a sigh of relief and gently stroked the top of the werepuppy's head with a shaking hand. It licked the back of his neck. Dr. Drakes couldn't help but smile and his shaking stopped. Other than the bloody fangs it was the cutest and most innocent thing Dr. Drakes had ever seen. Now he knew how Dr. White felt about E-148.

The general looked up from the floor, his back hunched over and his free hand cradling his bloody wrist, his eyes were stone cold and hard and unforgiving.

"Restrain that mutt and put a muzzle on it, a good strong one," he snarled, never taking his eyes off of the werepuppy.

Three of the soldiers standing by the entrance marched up to Dr. Drakes, surrounding him and the werepuppy.

Dr. Drakes could feel the werepuppy's muscles tightening and his body tense up, like he knew what was coming. He could feel the tip of its claws just grazing the tips of his fur as it unsheathed them, but it showed no other sign that it had noticed the presence of the soldiers.

One of them reached out and grabbed the werepuppy by the scruff, but it was ready. The werepuppy lashed out with thorn-sharp claws and clawed at the soldier's hand.

The soldier cried out in pain and dropped the werepuppy, but it didn't stop. It clawed and nipped at his feet and ankles and head butting into his ankles, knocking the soldier to the floor. And to add insult to injury, it jumped onto his belly and clawed through the soldier's thick uniform and raked his belly with its claws.

He screamed out in pain as the other soldiers tried to get the werepuppy off of their companion without hurting him.

One of the soldiers finally whacked the werepuppy on the side of the head with the butt of his gun and knocked it halfway across the room.

But it was hardly even phased. It jumped up and glared at the soldier and charged at him. It jumped up and landed squarely on the soldier's chest and clawed at it. The soldier screamed in agony. The werepuppy jumped on his shoulder and tore at his neck, and then raked its claws down his face relentlessly.

The third soldier reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a tazer and pressed it into the back of the werepuppy's neck.

It yowled in agony and fell to the floor, knocking the wind out of it. It staggered, trying desperately to stand up, but it was already surrounded by the remaining soldiers, all pointing their assault rifles straight at it.

The werepuppy turned in circles, growling and snarling, trying to think of a way out, to retaliate.

But the soldiers were already on top of him-literally- pinning him to the ground and binding his hands and feet in heavy, stiff iron cuffs and silencing it with a strong, heavy muzzle. The over-powered werepuppy kicked and squirmed at its foes as they picked him up and held him in the air.

Dr. Drakes stood by and watched. He hated this. It just seemed so…wrong. Punishing a newborn like this. But there was nothing he could do.

The general stood up at his full height-geez, this man was huge- and he stepped up to the squirming, bound werepuppy, looming over it. It stopped squirming and glared up at the general with intense, pale yellow eye filled with pure hatred-could a newborn really hate?-as a low growl formed in the back of its throat.

The general only chuckled at this and grabbed the werepuppy by the chin and forced it to look up him.

"You really thought you could get away with that? You really thought I'd let that go unpunished? Just because you just came out of the capsule doesn't mean you can get away with whatever you want," the general snarled at the helpless werepuppy. It jerked it chin away from the general's grip, but never broke its glare.

The general let out a huff that must have been a laugh. "Take him to Cell Block D. And keep the restraints on him, we don't want him hurting anyone else now do we?" he ordered and turned around and stepped towards the empty capsule.

The werepuppy writhed and kicked and struggled against the soldiers in vain as they led him away.

Dr. Drakes stared after the soldiers as they led the experiment away. He wanted so badly to help the poor thing but he was helpless to do a thing about it.

"And I want a restraint collar on him too!" yelled the general over his shoulder. Prof. Ash looked at him, disgust filled his grey eyes, but the general didn't seem to notice as he peered at the information on the computer screen attached to the capsule.

Dr. Drakes watched as one of the soldiers held the werepuppy by the neck and another strapped the restraint collar into place.

For a brief moment, it and Dr. Drakes locked eyes. It stared at Dr. Drakes with pleading eyes before it disappeared behind the wall as he was led away to his cell.

"Is all of this really necessary?" ventured Dr. Drakes without thinking.

The general whipped around and had Dr. Drakes pinned up against the wall by his shirt collar before he even had a chance to blink. "Yes, it is necessary. And it will continue to be necessary until it learns its place," he sneered, his breath was rancid and glints of insanity swam across his power-hungry eyes.

Dr. Drakes struggled in vain against the general's iron grip; Prof. Ash came up behind the general and put his hand on his shoulder rather roughly. "Enough. He's new and young. He doesn't know how things work around here yet. Let him go,"

The general swung around with his free hand and struck Prof. Ash square in the face. He fell backwards and readied his fists to retaliate.

"Can't you fellows go for five minutes without fighting about something?"

The trio turned towards the direction of the voice. It was Deathhorn. His hands folded behind his back and his back hunched over ever so slightly and a menacing smile plastered to his face, revealing two rows of dangerously sharp pointed teeth.

The general dropped Dr. Drakes and wielded around at Deathhorn with clenched fists. "What are you doing here, Deathhorn?"

"Coming to check up on the experiment. And based upon the soldiers down the hallway I presume it was a success, yes?"

"That is none of your concern, Deathhorn. Get back to your cell," ordered the general through gritted teeth.

"It's quite late you know. You should all get to bed," commented Deathhorn out of the blue, as if he had never heard the general's hostile order.

Dr. Drakes then realized how tired he was. But he wanted to see the experiment first. He stood up and cleared his throat. "I would like to see the," he coughed. "The experiment first,"

"Of course," answered Deathhorn and nodded.

Dr. Drakes silently slipped past Deathhorn and out the door to follow the soldiers. Deathhorn watched him go out, and then turned to Prof. Ash.

"You should get some sleep. We'll take care of things here,"

Prof. Ash blinked, taken a little off-guard, but quickly recovered. "Oh, um, thank you," he replied and walked out of the room, closing the metal door behind him.

Deathhorn turned back towards the general. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't do anything irrational,"

"That was not irrational,"

"No? Attacking one of your new scientists for asking a near harmless question isn't irrational?"

"He was questioning my authority!"

"No, he wasn't. He was questioning if it was really necessary to punish the experiment like that. You were a bit harsh on the thing, you know,"

The general sniggered mockingly and spit out of the corner of his mouth, leaving a crimson stain on the floor.

"That's funny coming from you,"

"At least I didn't muzzle and torture newborns," retorted Deathhorn. His patience was running thin.

"No, but you came pretty close,"

Deathhorn glared the general. His patience had run out. "General, I have very little patience for insolent fools. Don't try me,"

The general only guffawed. "Oh please. You don't scare me. I'm not one of your little helpless test subjects, you know,"

"Yet,"

The general's smile faded and was replaced with a glare. "Get back to your cell before I have you escorted there like E-157,"

Deathhorn only shrugged. "Whatever," he replied curtly and slowly padded towards to the door.

Just before he left the room he said one last final thing. "Oh, and general,"

"What?" responded the general, clearly annoyed that Deathhorn hadn't left yet.

"Watch your back," he said and left the room. "You just might lose it," his last words were even darker and more ominous.

The general shivered. He hated that over-sized lizard.

_Fool._ Thought Deathhorn. The general was such an idiot. Everyone already hated him, especially the new experiment. And, he wondered, how many more coals would it take for that fiery hatred to burn out of control?

He smiled wickedly. Oh, revenge would be his, and it would be ever so sweet.

The werepuppy writhed and struggled in the soldiers' firm grip. They were leading him through a hallway void of any color that had no signs of any life whatsoever. He let his body go limp and let the soldiers take him to wherever they were taking him. He knew that fighting right now was going to get him nowhere. So for now, he might as well enjoy the ride.

He stared at the floor, angry at the man with the crazy eyes and rancid breath for picking him by the scruff and then ordering a bunch of pipsqueaks to tie him up and put some weird thing over his mouth. He hated that thing the most. He could barely even open his mouth, let alone tear these losers to shreds. But then again that was probably the point.

The group of soldiers stopped in front of a huge steel door blocking the way. One of the soldiers from behind him walked up to the door, slipping a security card out from his belt, and swiped it down the slot on the security lock. The light turned green and the door slid open.

He expected to see a row of doors with bars over the windows, but he was surprised when he saw another huge steel door ten feet away. The walls were dark grey and the only light came from a large window about six feet above the ground. Inside was a man-probably in his fifties or sixties-with grey-black hair combed tightly to his near-bald head sitting behind a control panel drinking a cup of coffee.

One of the soldiers cleared his throat rather loudly. The man behind the glass looked up and at the soldier. He pulled out his security card and held it up for the man to see. He leaned forward in his seat and squinted at for several heartbeats, then nodded and pushed a button on his keyboard. The door in front of them opened and the soldier smiled and nodded. The man behind the glass nodded and smiled as well, and just when he was about to turn his attention back to whatever it was he had been working on, he caught a glimpse of the werepuppy. His face was flooded in confusion and he turned back to the soldier who had shown him his security card. The soldier shrugged and stared at the man for a moment. There seemed to be some kind of silent communication between the two, but the man seemed to understand, and returned his attention back to whatever he had been working on.

They kept moving. He really wished they would at least let him open his mouth; take this thing off of his face. But after what he had done to the man with the crazy eyes and rancid breath it probably wasn't going to happen. But it only left him to wonder how anyone could stand the guy. He had been in the room with him for less than ten minutes and he already hated his guts.

They lead him down a hallway that was just as void of color and life as the last one, only real difference was that in this one the walls were lined with thick white steel doors with a tiny barred window near the top. But they kept walking. And walking. And walking. And more walking. And even_ more_ walking. He had almost fallen asleep by the time they had stopped by one of them and were opening the thick steel door. They stepped inside and the soldiers threw him onto the rather hard bed and locked the door behind them, leaving him alone.

Now was his chance. He struggled and writhed and pulled and twisted and turned, trying to get the cuffs and muzzle off, when suddenly the door opened.

It was Dr. Drakes-at least that's what he thought his name was-stepped inside and stared down at the werepuppy not unkindly. The werepuppy looked up him and stopped struggling for a moment, then continued.

Dr. Drakes sat on the bed with him and put his hand on the werepuppy's chest and gently pushed down. He looked up and locked eyes with Dr. Drakes. Dr. Drakes smiled warmly at him and pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket. He gently held up the werepuppy's cuffed hands and unlocked them, then he unlocked his feet, and finally, he undid the latch for the muzzle.

At first, the werepuppy just stared up at him, his little black nose twitching, and then he settled into Dr. Drakes' lap and quickly fell asleep.

He smiled and gently stroked the top of the werepuppy's head.

_You're not a monster are you._ Reflected Dr. Drakes. It was more of a statement rather than a question. He recalled when the werepuppy had rested its head on his shoulder.

He needed a name. It felt weird calling him by a number, and strangely…wrong. Huh, maybe that was why Dr. White called E-148 E instead of his full number.

"You'll get in trouble for doing that you know,"

Dr. Drakes jumped and whipped around, rousing the werepuppy in his lap. It was Prof. Ash. He was standing in the doorway leaning against the wall with arms crossed. His face was unreadable and his eyes expressionless.

"Oh, um, you startled me," stammered Dr. Drakes.

"You left the door open,"

"Oh, I, um, I did?"

"Yes,"

"Oh. Um, woops,"

"You should just be careful Daniel; you could get in a lot of trouble for doing that, believe it or not,"

"Huh, you've never called me Daniel before,"

"Well, I'm starting now," he sighed and sat down on the bed next to the young scientist. "And you could also get in a lot of trouble for unlocking the experiment from his bindings,"

He sighed again and sat down next to the young scientist. "I like you Daniel. I really do. Which is why I think I should warn you about a couple of things,"

"Warn me?"

"Yes, warn you. There's a lot about HAC you need to know," his voice was grim and his expression solemn. The werepuppy had crawled off of Dr. Drakes' lap and onto Prof. Ash's, nudging his hand until he lifted it high enough for him to creep under it a settle down. Prof. Ash rubbed its back gently and the werepuppy licked the sleeve of his pure white lab coat in return. Prof. Ash couldn't help but smile.

"First thing is that the general is not very patient, and quite recently, he's been, how shall we say, losing his marbles a lot lately. So it is best to stay out of his way," he scratched the werepuppy behind one of his pointed ears. "I mean, just look what happened to this little fellow. He bit the general's wrist and now he's locked in a high security cell and is-excuse me-_was_ bound by heavy restraints and a muzzle,"

Dr. Drakes nodded and stared down at the floor. He hated how the little guy was being treated. Less than ten minutes out of the capsule and he was already being treated like a dangerous animal.

"Second, do not cross paths with the cornel either, he's quite nasty, and, he hates Wereians, and, well, Packians and even Clanians in general, because of an unfortunate accident that occurred quite some years ago, that's where he got that scar on his face. But never ask about it, that's just begging for trouble,"

"Third, no messing with the successful experiments. And when I mean no messing with them, I mean no giving them privileges the general doesn't want them to have. Like, um," he looked down at the sleeping werepuppy. "Releasing them from their restraints when they're not supposed to be released,"

"Oh, um, sorry. I-it just felt so, so _wrong_ to leave him like that. I mean, the poor guy could barely _move,"_

Prof. Ash sighed and put his hand on Dr. Drakes' shoulder. "I know. I know. That's what I like about you, Daniel. You're willing to do the right thing even if it goes against the rules," he turned and smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "It shows your integrity. And I like people with integrity. You just need to be careful," he was just about to get up when he suddenly sat back down.

"Which reminds me. There's one more thing you need to know. Watch out for Deathhorn. He's unpredictable and dangerous. He has a bad history and you almost never know what he's going to do,"

"Alright. Yes, I've heard some pretty bad things about him. Is he really insane?"

"More or less. But he's a brilliant scientist, I'll give him that. And that's what makes him so dangerous,"

"How does being a brilliant scientist make him so dangerous? Because from my point of view, it looked like those claws of his could do quite a bit of damage, and those big horns of his,"

"That's true, but it's his mind you should really be scared of. He's a lot smarter than the general, and a lot stronger, granted. Don't tell him I said that,"

"Tell who? The general or Deathhorn?"

"Both. But you really need to be careful of Deathhorn. He plays games with your mind. He's very crafty. Just be careful around him. Be cautious, but open,"

"Open?"

"Yes, open. He may be crafty and dangerous, but sometimes it's a good thing to have him on your side. Like I said he's really a brilliant fellow, dangerous and twisted, but brilliant,"

"Alright, I'll be careful around him, but open,"

"Good,"

"OK, so is there anything else I need to know?"

"Well yes, but the rest is more of common sense. Don't leave the coffee machine on, don't come to work in your underwear, don't wear black socks with flip flops, don't take Dr. Lynx's lunch, don't ask Dr. White unclog the toilet for you, don't, and I mean _don't_ insult or say anything bad about E-148 or call him by his number around her, don't leave the doors open, don't hit on Mrs. Sue, and you'll be alright,"

Dr. Drakes laughed. "Why do I get the feeling some of these things have happened?"

Prof. Ash hesitated. "Because most of them have,"

"Some came to work in their _undies?"_

"Yes. Though it was quite funny,"

"And someone hit on Mrs. Sue?"

"Yes. Oh my, that did not go down well. He ended up in a full body cast for six months,"

"My, I guess she can be pretty dangerous herself, can't she?"

"Oh yes. They should have hired her as a security guard,"

They both laughed. Even the werepuppy seemed to be giggling.

"And about the other stuff?"

"Oh, some idiot decided to eat Dr. Lynx's lunch and he thwacked him on the side of the head with a mop and locked him in the janitor's closet for the rest of the night. One of the other scientists asked Dr. White to unclog the toilet and she gave 'im a good kick between the legs and a hard slap in the face and did everything in her power to make the rest of the week for that fellow a living hell. And a few people said some pretty bad things about E-148 or called him by his number instead of his nickname and Dr. White got her revenge on each of them in some way or another. And let me tell you, it was never pretty. She's very…passionate, about E. So you have to watch what you say about him around her, and everywhere else for that matter. There are eyes and ears _everywhere,"_

Dr. Drakes laughed, knowing it was meant to be a joke. But he had caught the hidden warning in it. They were probably being watched right now.

"OK, I'll remember that," laughed Dr. Drakes and looked down at the werepuppy sleeping peacefully in Prof. Ash's lap and yawned, remembering how tired he was.

"We should probably get some sleep. We'll have a big day tomorrow," said Prof. Ash.

"Yeah, we probably should, and, what do you mean it's going to be a big day tomorrow?"

"Well, seeing as how this little fellow attacked the general, it could become a matter of whether or not it should be terminated,"

"Oh," _Terminated._ The word pounded away at Dr. Drakes' mind, making him feel sick. _Terminated._

The werepuppy's ears perked. They were talking about him. He looked up and locked eyes with Prof. Ash, at least that's what he thought the wolf's name was, his intense pale yellow eyes full of worry, as he had understood every word of the conversation.

Dr. Drakes reached out and scratched behind the werepuppy's right ear. It smiled. It was actually _smiling_. Dr. Drakes smiled back and scratched the area between its head and neck. The werepuppy closed its eyes and smiled, its tail wagging and his left leg kicking in pleasure.

Dr. Drakes laughed. Man, werehog puppies were cute! No wonder Dr. White liked E-157 so much. He'd only had a few run-ins with the kid, but he could say he liked him. And he _was_ pretty cute.

This reminded him; he had beef jerky in his pocket. "You hungry little fellow?"

The pup immediately sat up and stared at Dr. Drakes longingly. When Dr. Drakes stayed still, the pup glanced at his lab coat pocket and then back at him.

Dr. Drakes smiled and pulled a piece of beef jerky out of his pocket and held it out to him. He sniffed it and then devoured it in one quick gulp. He crawled onto Dr. Drakes' lap and put his paws on his chest and rested his head on his shoulder, nudging him affectionately.

Dr. Drakes almost cried. This was the sweetest thing he'd ever met.

"He's and intelligent little fellow,"

"Huh?"

"How did he know that the beef jerky was in your pocket?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe he smelled it?"

"Maybe. But he's definitely no idiot,"

There they were, talking about him again. And commenting on how smart he was. At least _some_ people got it. He had a feeling he was going to like these two.

"What do you mean?"

_What do you mean "What do you mean?" Come on! How many pups can outsmart three soldiers and whoop their sorry butts in the process?_

"Well, you saw what he did to those soldiers. How many pups know to go for the eyes and belly of their opponent?"

_Thank you!_

"I suppose so,"

_What do you mean "I suppose so,"?_ _Come_ on,_ dude! Put it together! I'm not your average werecroc here!_

"You, know that reminds me, he needs a name,"

_A name?_

"A name? Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. What should we name him?"

Prof. Ash paused for a moment, racking his mind for a good name. "How about Trag?"

_Trag?_

"Trag?" asked Dr. Drakes and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes, it's Decorian for 'spirited fighter'. What do you think?"

"Trag. I like it. It suits him," he looked over at the werepuppy, who smiled back at him with a new light in his eyes. "Trag," he whispered again, half to himself. The werepuppy nudged him affectionately.

Prof. Ash smiled. "We should probably get some sleep now. Come on, let's go," and with that Prof. Ash stood up and left the room.

Dr. Drakes glanced over at the werepuppy on his shoulder. He smiled at it and it smiled back innocently. He kind of reminded him of E. Sorta.

"Alright little guy, time to get some shut eye," said Dr. Drakes as he lifted the werepuppy in the air and set him on the bed. He didn't struggle, just let Dr. Drakes lower him down into the bed and pull the covers over him. He settled in and smiled up Dr. Drakes as left the room. The young scientist stopped right outside the door and smiled back at the tired werepuppy.

"Good night, Trag," he whispered and closed the door.

The following morning Trag's number was tattooed on his right arm and he was fitted for a tracking anklet and a restraint collar. As much as Dr. Drake hated it, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. But the general had allowed him to be the one to care for Trag (since no one else would take the job), and the general had cooled off a little bit and his wrist wasn't too seriously damaged. But he still had Trag kept in D Block and had him under supervision at all times.

"Trag! Trag! Breakfast!" called out Dr. Drakes as he stepped up to the thick steel door to his cell. Just as he was about to reach for the door handle a guard shifted his gun to block him.

"What? I'm just getting him his breakfast," snapped Dr. Drakes, annoyed at the amount of security there was over Trag.

The guard raised an eyebrow and then shrugged and stepped aside.

"Thank you," said Dr. Drakes and opened the door with his key.

"Trag! Trag! It's breakfast time!" he called out again. Trag jumped out of the covers and looked from the right to the left and then turned around and saw Dr. Drakes and ran up to the edge of his bed and wagged his tail.

_Oh boy! Breakfast! What is it today? Bacon? Ham? Steak? Oh, wait no, is it ostrich meat?_

"Alright Trag, guess what I have for you,"

_Please be ostrich meat. PLEASE be ostrich meat!_

He held up a huge hunk of fresh red meat. "Ostrich meat,"

_YES!_

"Dig in!" said Dr. Drakes cheerfully and dropped the slab of meat on the bed. Trag jumped back only to go plunging into the succulent meat, tearing at it viciously as if he hadn't seen food in over year. Man, that thing was almost as big as him!

Dr. Drakes was amazed at how fast he finished it. Within five minutes the ostrich meat was gone and Trag plopped down on his back holding his belly and let out a loud burp. He looked up at Dr. Drakes and smiled, then plopped his head back on his pillow.

He laughed. That was an impressive burp. "Nice one, Trag! Geez, you were hungry,"

_Dude, it's ostrich meat. It's that good. Got any more?_

"Ah, Dr. Drakes, there you are. I was just coming to get to get you. We need to talk,"

Dr. Drakes jumped and spun around. It was the cornel.

Trag glared at the cornel and growled. _Ugh, I hate this guy._

"Oh, cornel, I was just, um, bringing Trag his breakfast," he let out a nervous laugh. The cornel always had a way of making him feel uneasy.

"Oh, of course, of course. So, his name is Trag now, eh?"

"Um, yes. Y-yes it is, um, sir," stammered Dr. Drakes.

_Oh, come 'on, let me at this guy. I'll tear him to shreds!_

"Hm. Yes. Come here you little beast, let me get a look at ya," he reached out with his hand, Trag growled and stepped backwards, away from the cornel's outstretched hand until he reached the edge of the bed. The cornel grabbed his scruff and held him in the air just close enough for him to get a good look at him, but far enough away that he couldn't hurt him.

Trag growled and yipped and kicked and writhed in his steely grip, his intense pale yellow eyes locked in a glare pointed straight for the cornel.

_Put me down dung-brain! Put me DOWN!_

"I-I wouldn't, do that if I were you," warned Dr. Drakes, his voice was shaking.

Trag let out a sharp bark. "Oh, please," he grabbed Trag by the chin to examine his face. Trag glared at him, his pale yellow eyes burned with pure hatred. "He wouldn't be stupid enough to try to hurt me,"

_Wanna a bet?_

"Please cornel, just put him down. It would be better not to take any chances,"

"What's the point in being a soldier if you don't take any chances?"

_I said, put me DOWN!_

Trag lashed out with his claws and raked down the cornel's face square on his scar, reopening the old wound. Drops of pure crimson splattered everywhere and fell onto the floor and spattered onto the wall. A thick, scarlet line cut through his unshaven face, like someone had taken a paint brush and ran it across his face in one, swift stroke. He cried in agony and fell to the floor with a loud _CRASH!_ Trag lashed out again, clawing his nose this time; it was a good, clean cut. Beautiful.

_I warned you. Never underestimate a werecroc._

The soldier rushed in and thwacked Trag in the side of the head and knocked his off of the cornel and against the wall.

He shook his head and glowered at the soldier, his huge, dagger-like teeth gritted and his eyes blazing.

_You did NOT just whack me with that gun. You hit me, I hit you. Prepare for a major lesson in head injuries, soldier._

He clawed at the floor to anchor himself, and then he charged at the soldier with the gun, jumping in air, using the cornel's body as a trampoline, and landed squarely on the soldier's face. He drug his back claws into his shoulders and clenched his hands in tight fists and punched the soldier's helmet with every ounce of strength he had and shattered the glass protecting the soldier's face. Until now. A few shards dug into the soldier's face along with Trag's fist. He probably broke his nose. At the very least made it bleed. But he wasn't finished. Not even close. He punched him again. This time for sure broke his nose. He lashed out again, this time with his claws and pulverized what little bit was left of the soldier's face, especially his eyes.

More soldiers rushed in, all carrying assault rifles and machine guns. But he didn't stop. He didn't care. He just didn't care. He kept clawing away at the soldier's face. There really wasn't much left of it, though. But it felt _so_ good. He just kept clawing. Clawing and clawing and clawing away at the man's face, hunks of bloody flesh flying across the room. Trag's hands and claws were drenched in crimson, some of which had splattered onto his face as he hacked away at the man's face.

A gunshot fired, making Trag jump and stop. It had missed. But for all he knew it maybe wasn't aimed at him. Doubtful, but it helped him keep it together. But it didn't really matter; because a heartbeat after the gunshot fired Trag was thwacked in the side of the head again. Hard. Much harder. He crashed into a nearby wall and collapsed on the floor. His head hurt. Really, really hurt. His head throbbed; it felt like someone was using his brain as a drum, the noise from the poundings hurt just as much as the actual throbbing. Was the noise really real or was it all in his head? He couldn't tell. It didn't really matter anyway. The only thought on his mind right now was that he had to get up and keep fighting. That was all that mattered right now. To keep fighting.

He tried to get up, but the millisecond he even tried to move a muscle it sent a million waves of pain coursing through his body. He let out a sharp yip and then fell back on the ground with a whimper. But he tried again anyway. It was either keep fighting or die anyway. But given the circumstances he was probably going to die either way you looked at it. But if he was going to down, he was gonna go down fighting. He tried to get up again, even though it sent thousands of waves of agony through his body, and managed to get on his hands and knees before he was thwacked in the side of the head again. Almost as hard as the last time. He didn't try to get up this time though. He couldn't even if he'd tried. His head hurt. But it almost seemed to be…fading. Maybe not fading, just…worse. Like when you get so cold you start to feel warm. Is it possible to be in so much pain that it actually started to feel good? Well, maybe not _good _per say, but more of go away. Too bad the exhaustion couldn't go away too. Now that would be great. Just super.

He lifted his hand in front of his face. He knew it should probably hurt, but it didn't. It just felt so…numb. His vision started to split. How many hands did he have? Then blur. Was his hand even there? He was vaguely aware of his hands being cuffed behind his back and his legs chained together. And that weird thing put over his mouth. Ugh, he hated that thing. He could barely even open his mouth without running into the dung thing. He was lifted up into the air, well, sort of; he was half carried, half dragged out of his now bloody cell and out into the hallway.

It was chaos. Doctors were running everywhere, soldiers too. Scientists here and there. Huh, he half expected to see the Navy or something. He watched as the cornel and the soldier whose face he had hacked away at lifted onto gurneys and quickly carted away down the colorless hallway. He was lifted onto a gurney too, but was rather thrown onto it more than anything. He groaned. At least he _thought _he groaned. He was having a hard time hearing too. And it felt as if his sense of touch had abandoned him, he felt as if he were floating on thin air.

It must be loud in there, but he really couldn't tell. That thwack must have knocked his eardrums along with his sense of touch. But he was smart enough to tell it must be noisy in there. There was faint humming in his ears. That was the only real indication that there was any noise whatsoever.

His position was shifted by a couple of soldiers. They laid him on his back and started strapping long leather, well, straps around his body to help restrain him. He didn't really see the point in that though, he wasn't going anywhere.

Huh. His sense of touch must be coming back because now he can feel a huge lump in his back. His hands. His hands were chained behind his back. Great. He can feel _that_ but nothing_ else._ Perfect. Can life get _any better?_

He was being wheeled away now. But they definitely weren't moving as quickly as they had with the cornel and the soldier. Like they didn't care if he died or not. They probably didn't. They probably thought that if they took their _sweet time_ taking him to the infirmary he would die along the way and all their problems would be _solved._ Well, that would certainly solve all of his problems. Just die and end this nightmare. They called it life but he saw none of that in his. There's no amount of pain that hell can cause him that he hasn't already dealt with. Death. Oh, why couldn't he just _die already?!_ If anyone _really_ cares about him why wouldn't they just let him _die?_ Or _take him away from this place?!_ He could already feel the tears forming in his eyes. Let them come. Oh, let them _come._ And keep coming. Hm, could you die of dehydration from crying too much? Because _that_ would be really convenient right about now.

Dr. Drakes loomed over him, running, or, more so fast walking, he wasn't sure. He was saying something to him. His eyes were full of so much worry. It nearly broken his heart to see his friend this distressed.

Friend.

Was Dr. Drakes really his friend?

He didn't know. He just didn't know anymore.

Dr. Drakes kept talking. It looked like was saying generally the same thing over and over and over again.

His sight and hearing weren't at their peak at the moment, so it was hard to hear what it was he was trying to tell him and even harder to read his lips. But he would try anyway.

He squinted at Dr. Drakes and strained his ears to hear. But no dice. Darkness seemed to be looming over him, offering him sanctuary from the cruelty of his reality. He was just about to answer the call when a part of his hearing came back, just long enough to hear what Dr. Drakes was saying.

"You're going to be alright Trag; everything's going to be fine. Don't worry, we'll get through this. Everything's going to be alright,"

_I sure hope you're right._

And he let the darkness consume him and take him away from reality.

His head hurt. That was the first thing he noticed. His body was sore. Second thing he noticed. He opened his eyes, not all the way, but just a crack. It was bright. He waited a minute for his eyes to adjust and surveyed the room. It was an empty, pure white room. Void of any color or life. Solitary Confinement? No, the walls weren't padded. Well, it _was_ HAC after all. Maybe the walls were soft. Probably not. They probably didn't even care what really happened to him anymore. Maybe never did. He hated HAC. Its lack of color and life, a good chunk of its employees the same way, with a few exceptions of course. And anything could happen. _Anything._

He tried to sit up, but something stopped him, first the pain, oh it hurt. Then he realized that that meant his sense of touch was coming back to him. Nice. He tried to sit up again, and then saw that something was holding him down. He lifted his head as much as he could and looked down at his body. His arms were restrained by at least three steel bindings each. He tried to move them and heard a small, metallic _jinckle_. And they were also _handcuffed_ to the bed as well. Then he realized he was lying on a hospital bed, not necessarily one of the nice ones per say, well, it didn't _feel_ like a nice one due to the fact that the pillow and mattress he was lying on was hard. He tried to shift positions, but _that_ didn't work. Not only were his legs strapped down to the bed by the same steel bindings as his arms-he heard a _jinckle_ coming from farther down the bed-and_ handcuffed_ to it, but his entire _body_ was strapped down to the bed by thick leather, well, straps. One on his upper chest, one on his lower, one on his stomach, one on his…well, you know, one on his upper legs, one on his knees, and finally, one on his ankles.

He groaned, half from the pain, half from the fact that he wasn't even allowed to move, and let his head drop onto the hard pillow. He groaned, he actually _heard _himself groan, which meant his hearing was coming back too. But it sounded…muffled. Strange. There was something else, too. On his face. It felt hard and cold and…annoying. He could barely even open his mouth without running into the dung thing. Great. Could he _be _any more restrained?

A door opened just to the very far right of him. He heard footsteps. His muscles tensed and he readied his claws. The figure came into focus. It was Dr. Drakes. He sheathed his claws and let his muscles relax a little. The young scientist stepped up to the bed and looked down at the restrained Trag; his amber-yellow eyes were filled with a mixture of relief and worry.

"Trag, can you hear me?" his voice betrayed his worry too.

He nodded.

Dr. Drakes let out a sigh of relief. "Good. I-I'm," he hesitated and carefully brought his shaking hand to Trag's and squeezed it gently. He sighed and smiled weakly at Trag, his eyes shiny with the threat of tears. "I'm just glad you're OK,"

Trag smiled, or, at least, _tried_ to smile through the muzzle. He wasn't sure if Dr. Drakes could see it, but he smiled anyway. He couldn't get punished for smiling. He squeezed Dr. Drakes' hand back.

Dr. Drakes smiled and wiped his eyes with his free hand.

_Ah, come 'on man, knock it off. Quit with the waterworks, man. Seriously, you're gonna make me cry. And crocs don't cry. Come 'on man, cut it out…_

"Daniel?"

Dr. Drakes jumped and whipped around. It was Dr. White. Her face looked concerned.

"Oh, um, yes, um," he coughed and smiled nervously. "Yes?"

Dr. White raised an eyebrow and shook her. She stepped up next to Dr. Drakes and smiled weakly, trying to brighten the mood a little.

"How are you?"

"Fine. Just, well, you know, fine,"

She nodded and looked down at Trag and brought up the warmest smile she could muster.

"So is this Trag?"

Dr. Drakes nodded.

She smiled warmly at Trag. "Hi Trag, My name is Dr. White,"

Trag's ears perked at this. He'd heard that name before.

_Dr. White, eh? You're E's friend right?_

"Don't worry Trag, you don't have to worry about Dr. White too much, she won't bite,"

_I'm not worried about her biting me DD; I think she's more worried about _me_ biting_ her_ rather than it being the other way around._

She gave him a friendly shove. "Daniel!" she laughed.

"What? You won't!" he was laughing too.

Dr. White laughed for several seconds and then cleared her throat. "Is he going to be alright? What did the doctor say?"

Dr. Drakes stopped laughing and stared at Dr. White with a blank expression.

_She means me, Drakes._

"Oh, you mean Trag!"

_Oh, the boy's a genius._

"Yes, Trag. Who did you think I was talking about?" her tone was not unkindly, but it still sounded like she was laughing at him.

"Um, I don't know, y-you just kind of caught me off-guard, that's all,"

_First mistake bro, letting your guard down. Not smart bro, not smart at all._

"Oh, sorry,"

"No, no, it's perfectly alright,"

Trag sighed inwardly and rolled his eyes. Luckily they didn't seem to notice.

_No man, it's not "OK" when someone catches you off-guard, not cool man, not cool._

"So what did the doctor say about Trag?

"Oh! Um, he'll be alright. Just gonna take a little time to heal, but nothing real serious,"

"Oh that's good,"

"Yeah, the doctor said he's healing really fast,"

Dr. White chuckled to herself. "Well I'm not surprised. He is a werehog after all,"

_What's that got to do with anything?_

"Yeah, I guess so. Werehogs are pretty fast healers,"

_Really?_

"Yes. But I really wish they would allow him to be exposed to moonlight,"

_Moonlight? What do I need moonlight for?_

"Yeah, werehogs have a tendency heal even faster under moonlight, especially a full moon,"

_You don't say._

"Yes, that's true," said Dr. White as she stroked his head and ran her fingers through his quills and fur.

He decided he liked her. She seemed nice enough. She wasn't calling him _mutt_ or _beast _or doing anything to hurt him. But was she trustworthy? He didn't know yet. But he'd find out as soon as they let him out these restraints and out of this bed.

She leaned in close to his ear. "Don't worry; we'll get you out of all of this. You'll see," her breath tickled his ear.

She stood up straight and smiled warmly down at him, her eyes were kind. He stared into them, almost transfixed by them. By their kindness. Did such a kindness even exist? He had no idea. The only "kindness" that ever came his way was extremely rare and short lived. It almost never lasted for more than a few minutes before he was beaten back into reality, sometimes quite literally.

"Don't worry, Trag. Everything's going to be alright. I promise," whispered Dr. Drakes. Suddenly a cold liquid began to surge through his veins. He drew a sharp breath and let the darkness take him under its wings again.

He wasn't alone. That was the very first thing that he realized when he woke up. He wasn't alone. There was someone else in the room. And his nose told him it wasn't Dr. Drakes or White. Oh no, whoever this guy was he _stank_. At first he thought maybe it was another experiment that had "tested its limits" like he had. But his nose told him otherwise. He knew this guy. And not in a good way.

He heard footsteps. Coming towards him. They sounded liked boots. The figure loomed over him. He had a nasty grin on his unshaven face, a huge scar running down it.

"Hello Trag," he snarled. His breath reeked of alcohol.

Trag cringed. It was the cornel.

"How are you feeling?"

It was an insult. The cornel knew he couldn't talk, even if he wanted to. Stupid muzzle. And second, it was rather ironic due to the fact that he had tried to tear the cornel apart only a short while ago, and here he was, still lying strapped and handcuffed in a hospital bed.

Trag glared at him. He clenched his fisted and tensed his muscles. He hated being this vulnerable.

The cornel chuckled mockingly and paced to the foot of Trag's bed and leaned against it. Trag looked over at him and glared even harder. He may not be able to fight physically, but he refused to go down as a coward.

"Listen up, mutt. In a week you're standing trial in front of the Board," he still had that nasty grin on his face.

_Trial? What for?_

"You've been a little too unrulely, and you will have to be punished for your actions," he looked like he was enjoying every second of this.

_Punished? What're ya gonna do scat-face? Send me to prison? Please. What can you people possibly do to me now that you haven't already done to me?_

"So, we will decided then what to do with you, Whether we should just up the security and restraints on you or whether or not you should be decommissioned," his voice seemed to get deeper and darker with each word he uttered.

Trag froze. Decommissioned. The one thing they haven't already done to him. The thing he was _actually _afraid of.

_Decommissioned. _The word pounded away at his brain. _Decommissioned._ He hoped his eyes didn't give away his fear.

Apparently they did. The cornel's smile got bigger and nastier. "Hear that, mutt? You mess up and I get to watch you _die," _he put an extra emphases on the word _die._

Trag started to panic. But he killed it as soon as it popped up. Dying. It was what he always wanted. To die. To escape this nightmare. Good. He'd show everyone his little secret then just as they are about to pull the switch for Abolition Chambers to activate. Whether or not he should actually try to escape or not he hadn't decided yet, but he was _for sure_ gonna psych them out before he left.

The cornel chuckled darkly and stood up to leave. Just as he was walking out the door he called over his shoulder: "The guards will be here to pick you up a week from now, mutt. Try anything and you'll go straight to the Chambers,"

_Yeah, like I'm gonna try something. I'm not stupid. Besides, where's the fun in that?_

"See ya then!" the cornel yelled over his shoulder just as he was about to leave the room. "_Mutt!" _he broke into a hysterical laughter before the door slammed shut. Silence. He was alone. Finally.

_Yeah, that's right cornel, you just laugh now. Enjoy it while you can. But one of these days you won't be laughing, oh no, you'll be too busy puking up your own organs and bleeding to death to be doing any laughing. Oh but don't worry, I'll be doing it for you. And I'll enjoy every second of it._

The cold liquid surged through his veins again. He let a sharp breath escape his lips and began to drift. Darkness loomed over him once again.

_Let it come._

Darkness came over him and welcomed him into its arms.

_Let. It. Come._

He was hungry. That was his one and only thought when he woke up. He needed food. When was the last time he had eaten something? He couldn't even remember. Oh well. Maybe someone would bring him something eventually.

He tried to shift positions again. He found that he could move a little more now. He looked down at his body. It wasn't as restrained as before. Some of the straps from before were gone. Now there was only one on his chest and one on his stomach, one on his upper legs and one on his ankles. OK, getting there. Alright. He'll take it. And the steel bindings that had held down his arms had been reduced to one each and the handcuffs-granted, they were heavier and thicker this time around, but he would have to live with that. The cuffs were thicker around his ankles too, but that didn't matter much.

He grinned. Then he realized the muzzle was gone. His smile grew at that. And he had grown. A _lot._ Last time he remembered he had the body of, what? A six-year-old? Now he had the body of at least an eleven-year-old.

_OK, not bad moving up the ladder. Eleven. That's OK, I can work with that._

He flexed the muscles on his arms and puffed out his chest as much as he could. Ah, _man_ that felt _good!_ His grin grew twice its size.

_Lookin' good, Trag. Lookin' good._

Though, as much as this was a pleasant change from being a six-year-old, he still couldn't _wait_ till he reached the teen years. Then he'd _really_start seeing some _serious_ muscle.

He laid his head back on his hard pillow with a smile, satisfied with his progress.

_Come and get me HAC. Take your best shot. I'm ready for 'ya._

As if on cue the door opened. Trag glanced over at it casually, just to see who it was. It was…someone he didn't know. A humanoid female cat with blonde fur and green eyes. She was carrying a tray piled high with meat.

Trag's mouth watered and he stared the tray longingly. Someone else stepped into the room behind her. It was a soldier. No, make that _two_ soldiers. Perfect. _Just_ what he needed. More idiots to annoy him.

The soldiers stepped around the female cat and stepped up to Trag.

_This may be it._

They undid the leather straps holding him down and unlocked the cuffs restraining him to the bed. The cat paused and waited. Her green eyes betrayed her fear.

Trag almost laughed. Fear was such a normal emotion for him. He was around it a lot. He was used to it. But that didn't mean he still didn't get kicks from seeing people cower in fear when they saw him. He was rather flattered, actually.

The soldiers undid all the leather straps and unlocked his hands from the cuffs attached to the bed. But they didn't even give him a chance to move before they already had his wrists locked in another pair of heavy cuffs. These ones were a lot thicker and heavier than the ones attached to bed. One of the soldiers locked his ankles in a pair just like it too. He expected them to grab his arms and drag him away, but they surprised him with what they did next. They turned and headed for the door. Trag raised his eyebrow but didn't argue. His eyes were drawn back to the cat and the tray of meat she was carrying. He licked his lips and again stared longingly at the succulent flesh. All of a sudden a soldier rushed up to him and grabbed his restraint collar. He heard a little gasp escape the feline's mouth. Just as he was about to smile the soldier yanked on the latch his collar to tighten it. A strange sound escaped Trag's mouth. Something halfway between a yip and a snarl. Then the soldier quickly walked away.

Trag rubbed his neck and glared darkly at the soldier, a deep, menacing growl forming in the back of his throat. But he could smell the soldiers' fear. He cherished it and smiled sinisterly.

The sound of an office chair rolling across the floor penetrated his ears. He turned his head and saw the cat rolling up to him with the tray of meat in her lap. She looked nervous, scared. He could smell her fear. He almost smiled at this. Almost. He would probably freak her out even more if he smiled and showed her his collection of dagger-sharp, crocodile teeth.

She scooted right up next to him and smiled weakly. A lousy attempt at brightening the mood a little bit.

"Hi Trag. Y-you look like you're feeling better. Dr. Wolff said you'd be OK," she laughed nervously. "He said werehogs are fast healers,"

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

_Yeah, OK, we get that I'm a fast healer and that I'm feeling fine, now give me the meat._

She gulped but kept smiling nervously. "I'm glad to see that you're healing quite nicely and that you'll be on your feet in no time,"

Wow. That was the most forced sentence he'd ever heard.

_Yeah, yeah, sure you are sweetheart. Can I have the food now?_

He glanced down at the food then up at the cat then back down at the food. Hopefully she got the message.

Her eyes looked down at the meat and then at Trag. Her eyes widened a little when she looked at him.

"Oh, you're hungry. Right, sorry,"

Oh the girl's a genius.

_No DUH I'm hungry! Come 'on! I haven't the slightest clue when the last time I ate was and I don't know when the next time it will be! Just give me the food already!_

"Here," she lifted the tray from her lap and stretched it out to Trag. He started to reach out when she pulled it back.

_Scat!_

"Oh, I almost forgot. My name is Tammy," she said and reached out with her hand to shake.

He just stared at it. Not stared at it like "Oh hey, I'm stupid!" but like he was a ruthless king and Tammy here was a worthless pheasant fresh from the filthy streets. He didn't shake it. He just stared at it. He didn't care if he was being rude or even mean, his stomach was growling and he was hungry and she was standing between him and his next meal. He was in a merciless mood as it was. If she didn't hand it over soon he was gonna snatch it from her.

_Yeah, that's nice Tams, but I just want my food, so hand it over, Kitty. Just hand it over and nobody gets hurt…_

Her hand drooped and her nervous, friendly smile faded after several long moments. She lifted the tray up to him.

"Um, here,"

He grabbed it and stuffed the meat in his mouth. She let out a small squeal but he didn't care. His stomach was raging from the lack of food and if he didn't answer it it was going to eat him from the inside out.

He grabbed the meat and stuffed it into his mouth. He was shoveling it in so fast he almost choked on a few pieces.

"So, um, Trag, I hear you're quite the little fighter,"

_Little fighter? Are you suggesting I'm small? Or that I'm _weak?_ For your sake I hope that's not what you're saying, because if you are I might just have to show you how much of a 'little fighter' I really am._

Trag stopped eating for a moment to glance over at the clearly uncomfortable and nervous Tammy and continued eating without another word. She was only a distraction from the food.

And distractions were unacceptable.

**_To be continued…_**


End file.
